Loyal
by CalgaryCowgirl
Summary: Returning to the Mansion, Logan finds a puzzle awaiting him, one not even Charles can solve. Will Logan be able to unravel this mystery woman. You've got it boys and girls, I'm keeping this one going :P. Changed Rating for Language
1. Scents

The sky was streaked with the deep reds, oranges, pinks, and blues of dusk when Logan finally roared through the ornate iron gates of The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Dismounting quickly, the feral took a moment to take in the sprawling red brick manor. Visually, very little had changed in the six months he had been away. The ivy had grown, the paint was a bit faded, but other than that nothing much had changed.

The scents had drastically changed, as Logan knew they would. Earthly scents left behind by the mutants who called this place home shifted on a daily basis. Thinking back, Logan remembered the day he left, sniffing the unique mix of freshly cut grass, the old wood of the manor, and baking bread drifting slowly from the kitchen. Now, the wind brought to him the scents of the new roses that were just about to burst into bloom, the exhaust from his Harley, and... something he couldn't place. Shaking his head, he started to move towards the great oak door, figuring it was some new student. He'd find out soon enough.

His feet moved mechanically, silently padding his way through the empty halls toward his quarters, as his mind ran over the bust that was his latest trip. He needed direction, needed at least a hint of what he should be looking for. Sometimes Logan hated Wheels and his righteous attitude towards his forgotten past. It would be so much easier to remember if he at least had some idea of where to start looking. Logan found himself snarling slightly in frustration as he threw open his door and chucked his bag inside. He'd deal with that later, right now, he really needed that beer.

Wandering down to the kitchen, Logan found himself wondering where everyone was. It was rare he found the mansion to be this quiet. With so many kids and teachers calling this place home, the place was never this quiet. It was disconcerting.

Slipping into the kitchen, he found his curiosity heightened. The kitchen was the heart of any home, and Xavier's school was no different. Kids would hang out while they were grabbing sodas and snacks before racing off somewhere. But tonight there wasn't a soul to be seen.

Frowning slightly, Logan strode forward, grabbing his beer, intent on going and finding Xavier and figuring out what on earth was going on. He was just about to close the fridge door when a sound stilled him. Breathing quietly, he listened as the unmistakably rhythmic sound of a horse's hooves drew ever closer. Whoever it was they were coming in fast. Wondering if it was one of the students, Logan moved to the window, hoping to spot whoever it was on their approach.

What he saw intrigued him. Whoever this rider was, she wasn't any student he had met before. Nor was she riding any of the horses Charles owned. This horse was too big, too fast, and pitch black, Logan would have remembered seeing this one around the stables before. By contrast, the woman perched on top was petite, but obviously strong enough to handle the beast beneath her. Her hair, a deep gold touched with red under the setting sun, streamed out behind her like a pennant. He watched her come to a halt in front of the manor, her pale skin seeming to almost shimmer as she turned to watch the sun sink below the horizon.

"Logan!" Logan turned and was almost shoved into the wall by the force of the hug he received. He chuckled and reached around to return Rouge's hug, happy to see his little (For she would always be little to him) red-headed protégé. "I didn't know you were back." She said, pulling back to talk to him.

"I just got in." Logan replied. "Didn't have a chance to make my rounds, especially since there doesn't seem to be anyone here." He slowly extricated himself from Rouge's arms, shooting a glance out the window, catching the mystery woman gently leading her horse back to the stable. ""Cept maybe you and her." He added, nodding outside.

Rouge followed his gaze and smiled. "Oh, right. Keira, I forgot that she was still here." Rouge moved to grab herself a soda before hopping up to the counter.

Logan followed suit, situating himself at the kitchen table facing her. "New student?"

"New teacher." Rouge replied. "She teaches kids to horseback ride and works in the stables."

"Where did ol' Chuck find her?"

Rouge shrugged. "I don't really know. The professor never really told us anything about her. I'm sure the other teachers know. It probably was just one of those things they didn't feel we kids needed to know."

Logan nodded and took a long pull of his beer, thinking over what Rouge had said. He didn't know why this woman interested him. Perhaps it was the fact that she was new, perhaps he was bored and liked the idea of figuring this woman out, who really knew. All he knew was, for some reason, he wanted to learn more.

It was a frustrating few days before Logan was able to meet Kiera. Every time he tried to head down to the stables he would be interrupted. Someone, usually Jean oddly enough, always seemed to want to speak to him. The rest of the time, he tried following her scent about the manor, an intoxicating mix of horses and the forest after a rain. Every time he caught even a whiff of it, the scent reminded him of racing on his bike through the evergreen forests of Canada and the freedom that came with it. It called to him.

In the meantime, he managed to uncover bits and pieces of information about his enigma. She was a psychic, almost as powerful as Charles, formerly out of Texas. It was in this heart of anti-mutant feeling that she had run a ranch similar to Charles's school and been responsible for the creation of a mutant Underground Railroad, ferrying those kids in need of greater aid than she could offer up to Westchester, to safety.

But such things were not to last. In speaking to Charles one day, Logan was finally given the end of the horse master's tale. "One cannot transport children across state lines legally without leaving a trail. And while Kiera tried valiantly to ensure no truly discernable pattern existed, there came a change within her government and the young lady found herself placed beneath a microscope." Charles sighed, a sad smile gracing his face. "Kiera is a woman of remarkable strength and cunning, cunning born from years of trusting the instincts instilled in all of us. Somehow those instincts told her a storm was coming and she reacted."

"Reacted how?" Logan asked.

"Those students who were old enough were immediately sent here. They were given assistance in completing their education and continuing on to university. Those still considered minors by the state were sent back down the line to various safe houses and hideouts to wait until their 18th birthday, at which point they would fly up to us using the open ended airline tickets purchased in their name."

Logan shivered slightly as he stepped out into the chilly open air of the yard. Zipping up his jacket, he continued to walk alongside the professor, hearing the grass whisper beneath his boots. "Kiera refused to leave until the last of 'her kids' were safe. It was one worry she caused me and I know it was the cause of a great deal of tension between herself and Jean as Kiera counts her horses among her children. She refused to leave until she had arranged for their care. In the end, she tells me she barely escaped with her life. She was out exercising Samael when someone set her whole ranch ablaze, clearly with the intent of killing her in the fire. She started for New Orleans that night." Charles smiled wryly. "Over the border and into Louisiana. What happened after that, I don't know. She refuses to speak of it and has placed some very impressive mental barriers around her mind."

"She and Jean don't really like each other do they?"

"Not particularly, though I can't really understand why."

The now familiar sound of hoof-beats echoed in the crisp spring air. Looking up, Logan smiled at the approaching figure, watching Kiera move with her horse. The two were mesmerizing, so much so, Logan didn't even hear Charles roll away. Logan traced her form, watching her fingers seem to melt into her mount's powerful neck, guiding him with movements so subtle; she simply appeared to be an extension of his body and he, hers. It was...impressive.

He watched her run through the familiar dance, though, this time, his eyes noticed some of the minute movements. Her fingers flexed, gently tightening the reins, smoothly slipping her body back to perch on her saddle, her hands loosing Samael's mane and beginning what was an almost sensual slide down his neck. Logan felt a shiver run up his spine. He was a man after all.

As she halted her horse alongside him, Logan watched her smile widen ever so slightly. As it did, the thought occurred to him. Perhaps while he had been watching her, she had been returning the favour. His eyes followed her hand as she reached down towards him. "Kiera Connolly."

"Logan." He replied, feeling his hand nearly engulf hers. "No last name that I know of."

"Well, Logan Sans-Surname," Logan could hear the tremor of a giggle slip into her voice and felt a corner of his mouth twitch, almost smiling. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"You as well. The professor has told me a great deal about you."

A soft laugh burst from her lips as she dismounted. "Well that puts me at a distinct disadvantage as I know very little about you." Logan's breath hitched ever so slightly at the sight of the very flirtatious smile on her lips. "Perhaps you would be willing to walk Sam and me to the stables? Rectify the situation a little?"

Logan shrugged and fell into step with Kiera. "I can try." He replied, somewhat bitterly, recalling the giant holes in his memories.

Kiera smiled up at him. "That's all anyone can do. Isn't it?"

Nestled in the warmth of the Manor, Charles Xavier watched the two figures disappear around a corner, smiling quietly to himself. So it began. Now the only question remaining now was, how would it end?


	2. Things get Interesting

Pulling onto the back drive to the red brick manor he occasionally called home, Logan smiled. He had been kicking around the mansion now for about a year and was surprised to find himself enjoying a slightly settled life. Making repairs around the mansion when they cropped up, teaching gym, running danger room simulations when he needed, even making a few supply runs for stable master Kiera and her horses.

Grinning slightly at the thought of this latest addition to his life, Logan pulled his truck to a stop behind the white and green wood building, spying the blonde striding past the open door, hauling a massive western saddle behind her. "Hey Kid!" he called, feeling a niggling feeling of irritation bubble up as she continued on without so much as a nod toward him. Striding quickly into the stables, he caught her in the tack room. "Hey, you ignoring me now?"

Kiera shot him a glance as she dropped the saddle on a stand to clean later. "We've been over this Wolvie." He winced at the nickname, his irritation growing, knowing the dig was intentional. "I don't respond to 'kid'. It's Kiera or Melinoe, save the 'kids' for your students." Turning back, she locked gazes with the Institutes resident bad boy. Minutes ticked by as they both tried to stare each other down, each struggling for dominance over the other.

Eventually, Logan gave way. She wasn't about to give any quarter in this case and if he didn't relent, the two would be there all night. They had more important things to deal with. "Come on, you wanted this alfalfa right?"

Kiera nodded. "I'll pull down the elevator on the way there, but I gotta pick Xanthos' feet before we start. He picked up a stone on the way in." Grabbing a pick, she went to walk out of the room, but seemed to have second thoughts about it. "Hey, you want to come with? I don't think you've met Xanthos yet."

Logan nodded, following her to the stallion's stall. Over the course of the year, Kiera had been slowly making the horses familiar with his scent. Some of them, he had noticed, didn't much seem to care about him while others looked on him with terror in their eyes. He smirked as he remembered the day Kiera had asked him for a few of his shirts.

_"You want what?"_

_"I want you to give me a few of your shirts, preferably a few older ones that you've worn a lot." Logan just continued to stare at her as though she had lost her mind. "What on earth are you looking at me like that for? All I want are a few shirts."_

_"Why the hell do you want my shirts?"_

_"I'm going to hang them in some of the stalls." She replied, rolling her eyes as he continued to stare at her blankly. "So the horses can get used to your sent, so the skittish ones can finally realize that just because you smell like a predator doesn't mean you're here to kill them. I hang the shirts in their stalls and they live around it, slowly coming to realize that your scent doesn't mean they're about to die."_

_Finally nodding in understanding, Logan moved to his dresser and pulled out three shirts workout shirts he wouldn't miss. "You know, you could have just told me that right off." He said, handing her the shirts._

_She snorted softly. "You have an olfactory system to rival a dog's and I have to explain scent desensitization to you? You disappoint me Logan." Rolling the fabric through her hands, she smirked. "Gym clothes?"_

_"I'll eventually want them back."_

_Nodding, Kiera turned to the door. "I'll trade you for a fresh set after a few days. Some of them might take a bit longer than others."_

_"The rescues?" He asked, remembering the stern warnings she had delivered to the students and faculty about her tougher cases. Certain horses were not to be trifled with as a few of the bolder children had learned to their own misfortune. Thankfully it had only taken a few concussions and one or two broken limbs to drive to point home._

_Pausing at the door, Kiera sighed. "I knew you were always going to be a stumbling block for them. Their fight or flight instinct has only become more sensitive with the abuse they've suffered." She toasted him with his fragrant shirts. "Hopefully these will help. Hey, you going into town later?"_

_Logan rolled his eyes. He was never going to get his shower. "Yeah, what of it?"_

_"I need to pick up a few things. Can you give me a lift?"_

_"Sure. I'll come find you when I'm ready to leave."_

_"Cool, and now I'll let you get to your shower."_

_A low growl lumbered in his throat. "You know I hate having people read my mind."_

_"And you know I don't do that without permission." She replied, smirking. "But it doesn't take a telepath to know you're filthy from working out and in desperate need of a shower." Opening the door, she winked at him. "See you later Logan, You know where to find me."_

_Logan shook his head as she left. "Damn Telepath." He muttered, grabbing his towel._

_"I heard that!"_

Now, leaning against the sliding door of the stall, Logan watched Kiera pick out the stone and check the horse's hoof for bruises or other injuries, while Xanthos kept a wary eye on him. "He a rescue to?"

"No. He's a racehorse. His owner is an old friend of mine and knew I'd give him a good home once he put him out to pasture." Logan watched as she ran her hands up the leg. It would have been almost erotic had it not been for the hard, clinical look in her eye. "All I have to do is let him breed every now and then so the stables can still make some money." Getting up, she tucked the pick into her back pocket. "Now let's get those bales in. I'd like to actually get some sleep tonight."

"Looking for some company?" Logan asked, striding along beside her. He winced as she landed a stinging shot to his shoulder. "You know, it's really not a good idea to hit me like that."

"Then stop making asinine comments like that you idiot." She snapped back, a tiny glimmer of a smile winking at him as she pulled down the elevator. "You get them on the belt, I'll put them away?"

Logan nodded, moving towards the truck, waiting to hear the motor to start whirring. When he didn't, He turned back, wondering what the hell could be slowing her up.

Kiera was staring back at the mansion, the scent of annoyance and anger rolling off her in waves. When she finally roused herself, she punched the start button so hard, Logan feared it might break. "What's eating you Mel?" he shouted to her.

"Jean! That self-righteous, conniving, control-freak is what's eating me." Snarling slightly, she snatched a pair of hay hooks from the wall. "Let's just get this done."

"Wait!" Logan called, striding over and grabbing a-hold of her arm. "You go up there with that mind-set; you're going to get yourself killed. Now what's going on?"

Jerking her arms free, Kiera sighed. "For some reason, our beloved Dr. Grey felt the need to tell me the professor wanted to speak to you."

Now Logan was really confused. "What the hell is wrong with that?"

"Are you serious?" Shaking her head, Kiera hung the hooks up; afraid she might do some serious harm. "Firstly, Charles is not an invalid. He is fully capable of calling you himself if he needs you." As she spoke, Kiera began gesturing wildly with her hands. "Secondly, if Jean wants you so damn bad, she can talk to you herself. She's a freaking psychic after all."

"That's what's making you so angry?" He asked, a little incredulous.

"It's one of many." She snapped. Pausing, Kiera turned from him and took a breath, trying to calm herself. Her scent was going haywire, her anger and resentment battling for control. Logan knew that battle all too well, having fought it almost every day of his life. "Look Logan, what's going on with Jean is between me and her. I don't want to pull you into the middle of it." Grabbing the hooks, she started for the hayloft.

"It would seem I'm already in the middle."

"Then I don't want to pull you in any further." She replied, shouting over her shoulder. "Now let's get a move on, we're burning daylight."

No more was said about the situation, both choosing to finish their work and walk back towards the manor in a tense silence. Tense, mainly because Kiera was still smouldering from this afternoon. Her conversations from that point onward were one worded and terse. The students who knew her took one look at her and did a 180*. The students who didn't know her well, were at least wise enough to only need a minor nudge to figure out it was best to leave her be for the night.

Dinner that night proved to be a bevy of interesting nuances for Logan. Kiera had finally managed to get her temper under control and was now actively avoiding Jean, something that was obviously getting on the red-head's nerves. Logan couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips, taking a drag of the cigar clenched between his teeth as he watched. It gave him an odd sense of satisfaction to see Jean getting so worked up, one that was immediately followed by a wave of guilt. Jean was a fellow X-man, professor and... a friend. Yeah, that was it, a friend. He shouldn't be taking pleasure in the fact that Kiera was managing to push all of her buttons. And yet, as he considered the notion, he remembered all the times Jean had caused him grief, had frustrated him to the point where he had damn near run down to the danger room to beat the living tar out of virtual enemies. All things considered, He supposed a little irritation on her part was hardly something to feel this guilty over.

As the meal wound down, Logan continued to find himself entertained by the impressive game of cat and mouse being played out before him, though he occasionally wondered who it was playing the cat. His eyes narrowed slightly as Kiera took a batch of dishes to the kitchen, Jean slinking off after her. Jean didn't slink, Logan thought to himself, choosing to follow the two ladies. If only to make sure either one hurt the other, yeah... That was it.

"At long last, you deign speak to me." Jeans voice reached Logan's ears through the kitchen door, now hanging slightly ajar. Through the crack, he could see Kiera standing at the window, probably washing the dishes from the sounds of things. "You've been avoiding me all day Melinoe."

"Not all day," Kiera replied softly, not turning from the window. "Just since this afternoon. Which, frankly, I don't think I can be blamed for considering both the tone you took and what you said." The cold formality in Kiera's tone shocked Logan a bit. He had never heard her speak this way and it put him on edge. There was danger in that voice, and it wasn't one to be trifled with.

"And your performance at dinner tonight, what was that?" Right Jean, very smart, poke the bear with a stick.

"Decorum Jean, it was a little decorum. Something you should know far more about than you apparently do." Dishes clinked together lightly. It almost appeared to be a very normal scene. Logan's nose was telling him a very different story. Scents of frustration, anger, and suspicion wafted towards him. Listening carefully, Logan stepped silently towards the door, ready to burst in if he was needed. "You don't usually try that hard to speak to me in person unless it is to lecture me about something and that was not a conversation I felt had a place at the dinner table." Kiera finally turned to face Jean. "As you should recall, such conversations usually end in screaming matches between us. Something I don't believe Charles would have found to be appropriate in front of the children."

Jean seemed to start back. "I do not lecture you."

The acrid scent of contempt hit Logan's nose. "Every other day Jean, you have something to say about what I should or shouldn't be doing with my life. That is the more critical definition of a lecture." There was a very pregnant pause, possibly as Jean fought to find a response to the quiet barb. "Did you have something to say to me Jean? Or was this just about my avoiding you today?"

"Why didn't you send Logan in when I asked this afternoon?"

"Why didn't you ask him to come in yourself?" Kiera retorted. "You told me it was Charles who wanted to speak to him. If that were the case Jean, Charles would have called Logan himself, and don't you dare deny it." Kiera's voice sharpened with each word spoken, her anger getting the better of her. "And if you wanted to talk to him that badly, you could have done so. I am not your messenger Jean. And I am most certainly not about to accept some bit part in your little Phantom of the Opera fantasy, thank you very much."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit." Jean started at the profanity. "Look at what you're doing. You're married to the Compte De Chagney, Scott, and toying with the Phantom, Logan. You are Christine Daae. Only, unlike Christine, you refuse to choose between the two men vying for your affection, probably because you enjoy the attentions lavished upon you." Shooting an angry look at Jean, Kiera turned back to the dishes. "You are playing both ends off against the middle and one day it is going to come back and bite you in the ass."

"Oh and you're so perfect are you?" Jean snorted. "You spend all your time with your animals; I wonder if you even remember how to act around people. You're such good friends with Logan. I wonder though, does he know about your other powers?" Logan watched Kiera's shoulders stiffen. Was Jean speaking true? Had she lied to him? "You haven't then, I wonder how he would feel about that?" Logan felt anger rising up in his chest. Why would Kiera lie to him?

"That's it." Spinning towards Jean, Logan watched Kiera's eyes flash with rage. "Listen up Jeannie-girl, because I'm only going to say this once. What goes on between Logan and me is none of your damn business. You're a married woman, start acting like one." In her rage, Kiera appeared to almost tower over the taller red-head. "As for my other powers, Charles was the only one who ever NEEDED to know about them. Anyone else I choose tell about them is my business...and only my business." Kiera's lips twisted into a snarl, transforming her face into a macabre mask of her usual kind countenance. "And mark my words Jean, if I ever find out you have been poking your noseabout where you know it is not welcome, there will be consequences."

This time it was Jean's turn to stiffen. "Are you threatening me?"

"Consider it more... a warning against your continued arrogance." Her face softened slightly, but lost none of its cruelty. "Tread lightly Jean. I would hate to see you fall from grace. You might hurt yourself." Finally reaching her limit, Kiera stepped around the shocked the telepath. Striding out of the room, she closed the door firmly behind her, breathing a sigh of relief...

Until she opened her eyes and saw him. "Logan..." she whispered, slight fear creeping into both her her voice and scent, but Logan would have none of it. Shaking his head, he turned and walked down towards the danger room, closing his ears to Kiera's voice behind him.

The Danger Room's floor was littered with virtual carnage. Robots, lay in pieces around him, sparks flying, black smoke rising up from the rubble. Taking a moment to calm his breathing, Logan surveyed the results of his anger and his frustration, feeling beads of sweat rolling down his face and neck. The old familiar calm filled him, steadfast companion of the fatigue from a damn good workout.

As he walked around, the world seemed to shimmer and vanish from his eyes, revealing the sterile steel and shimmering blue lights of the real Danger Room. Growling quietly, Logan spun around to face the control room, looking to see who it was who dared interrupt his session.

"Good Evening Logan. I thought I might find you down here." The growl faded from Logan's lips as Charles' voice came over the speakers. "I wonder if I might have a word with you concerning some rumours I have heard buzzing about."

"Be right up." Logan said. Sighing, Logan strode to the door, grabbing a towel to mop his face. Flinging the towel over his shoulders, Logan waited for the soft hiss of the elevator doors that heralded Xavier's arrival, figuring he knew what the old man wanted to 'discuss'.

"Would you care to walk with me Logan?" Charles asked, rolling past the feral, not expecting a refusal. Rolling his eyes slightly, Logan fell into step with the chair, waiting for Charles to ask. "I understand you were a witness to an altercation between Jean and Kiera in the kitchen earlier this evening. It concerns me that two such intelligent women would be fighting. I wonder if you might be able to shed some light on the situation."

"What light do you need shedding? They were fighting. Apparently Kiera doesn't particularly like Jean sticking her nose into her life. What more is there to say about it?"

"Yes, but according to Jean, threats were issued." Charles replied, glancing up at him. "This obviously concerns me a great deal, particularly as I have always found Kiera to be a particularly patient woman."

Logan shrugged, not particularly caring. "What can I tell you Chuck, Jean can really push a person's buttons when she wants to. Today it was about her powers. Apparently Kiera didn't appreciate the fact that Jean was aware that she had more than one. She apparently thought Jean had been pokin' around in her head without permission." Looking down at Charles, Logan tweaked an eyebrow. "I figured you must have told her."

Frowning, Charles shook his head. "No I did not, and powers are not something Kiera is always comfortable speaking about. This is very distressing."

"What the hell is wrong with other people knowing her powers?"

"She would not tell me, and I did not press. However, I believe you might now have the opportunity to ask her." Frowning, Logan followed Charles' line of sight to see Kiera walking towards them. There was a slight hesitation as their eyes met, her conviction seeming to waiver under his blank stare. "Hello Kiera."

When Kiera finally spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "Hello Charles." She said, squaring her shoulders. "I wonder if I could have a moment with Logan." Kiera refused to relinquish his gaze, and Logan found himself stilled by the hint of pleading buried deep within her bright green eyes. "Could we... talk, Logan?

Logan didn't speak for a long moment, just watching her. If you had asked him later, he would have said he was waiting to see if she would try probing his mind, using her powers to influence him. She didn't, though her scent told of how tempted she was. "We're done right Chuck?"

"That we are Logan. I shall see the both of you tomorrow hopefully." Neither one of them said a word, waiting until the mechanized whirr of Charles' wheelchair faded into the night. "So... talk"

"Right, um... Do you... Do you mind if we take a walk? What I have to say is really difficult to get out and..." Logan started for the door, cutting her off, but he didn't move so quickly that he missed the sigh of frustration escaping her lips. "You are not about to make this easy are you?" she muttered, running to catch up with him.

"No, I'm not." He snapped, not looking at her as he strode out onto the lawn. A harvest moon hung overhead, illuminating the fallen leaves beneath his feet. "You got a problem with that?"

"You know what, yeah, I do." Logan felt her hand grip his arm and, with surprising force, wrench him around to face her. "Look, I'm sorry, ok! I'm sorry I didn't tell you about all of my powers, I'm sorry I insulted Jean in front of you, I'm sorry I lied. Even though it was by omission, it was still a lie." Kiera's breath hitched in her throat as she spoke, spewing out a cloud into the crisp night air. "My mutations have always been a sore spot for me Logan. People, my own family, have abused them in ways I cannot even begin to describe. I learned a long time ago they are not something you talk about, and the fewer people who know about them, the better. That has always been my rule, even among my kids. " Kiera hugged herself gently, grimacing at her own vulnerability. "It's been a really, really tough rule to give up."

"So, what you're saying is you can't trust me, is that it?"

"Oh come on Logan!" she cried, her frustration at herself and the day in general bubbling to the surface once more. "You should know better than anyone here, old habits don't ever die, they just go dormant. And since this one is dormant to begin with..." She shrugged, not really able to finish her thought. "Besides Logan, no offence and... not to equivocate here, but... it's not as though you asked if I had any other powers. Someone obviously told you I was a telepath and you apparently didn't think anymore of it."

Logan shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his fingers fiddling with the lint of the seams. "Would you have ever told me?"

"You might not believe it, but I've been trying to think of a way for about a month now. Problem with that, it's not exactly something you bring up in casual conversation." Pushing back a rouge strand of hair, a cynical smile tugged at her lips. "I mean, come on, 'Hey Logan, You ready to head into town? By the way, I'm not just a telepath.' Yeah, like that wouldn't have been awkward."

A ghost of a smile twitched over Logan's face. "Yeah, that would have been weird." The two fell silent, neither quite sure how to continue this. "So... what other powers do you have?"

"Just one other. I'm... I'm like Jason Stryker." She stumbled ever so slightly over the name, obviously having been briefed about his past, or at least as much as anyone else knew. "The only thing is... I'm apparently more powerful than him. I can make the illusions real, and I'm talking Nightmare on Elm Street real."

Now Logan was confused. "What are you talking about?"

Kiera grimaced slightly, trying to find the words. "Ok... When Jason put an illusion into people's heads, it was only ever real in their minds. Put enough stress on them, their heart would give out, usual stuff. Me... I make you dream your palm gets sliced open; you will come out of the dream with an actual wound on your palm." Kiera drew her arms tighter around herself. "It's how my older brother died. Our house had been broken into recently and I was having a nightmare... He was cut to bits... I was five."

"Your parents..."

"Decided that, rather than turn me in or send me off to someplace that might help me, that I was going to repay the loss of their son by helping them grift. They had me read minds to see who would be the best mark, fool them into thinking I wasn't picking their pocket." Kiera seemed to shrink in on herself with each word, the shame she felt coating her scent like oil.

Logan shrugged. "You had to survive."

"Doesn't mean I have to feel good about it." Kiera said, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. "Listen, um... are we... are we going to be ok?"

"Are you ever going to keep things from me again?"

Kiera sighed. "I'm not going to patronise you by making a promise like that Logan. I don't know what the future holds. What if I ever want to plan a surprise for you or a student might tell me something about you and then beg me not to tell you."

A snort of laughter burst from Logan's lips. "Right, cause how often is that going to happen?"

"You'd be amazed." Kiera replied, smirking. "Apparently I'm very easy to talk to." Looking out over the lawn, Kiera smiled softly. "Hey, a buddy of mine just sent me a care package from Moscow. You want to help me put a bit of a dent in it? I can tell you a bit more of my tragic story."

"You won't have enough to even get me buzzed."

Kiera laughed. "Obviously you have never met Sasha. The man runs his own bar and could get alcohol by the case for free if he wanted. Throughout the months he has been sending this stuff to me, I have stockpiled enough vodka to get you, Sabertooth, and McCoy completely blitzed."

Logan arched his brow. "There a reason you got so much booze?"

"I don't like to drink alone." Kiera replied, shrugging. "And until now, I hadn't found anyone I felt like sharing my stash with." Without waiting for him to respond, Kiera started for the stables. "You coming or is this looking really lame?" A laughing grin broke over Logan's face as he started to follow her, his slightly longer legs quickly catching up to her.

The gentle breeze that had been moving softly through the leaves shifted slightly as they walked, bringing a myriad of scents to Logan's nose. His smirk widened ever so slightly as he happened upon one in particular. Every animal in the world knew that scent. Question was... what to do about it?


	3. The PredatorPrey Relationship

"Damnit, where's Storm when you need her." Kiera groaned, writhing under the covers of her bed, trying to ignore the gentle glow of sunlight against her eyelids. It was on days like this where she cursed her internal alarm clock for adamantly refusing to allow her to sleep past 6:00am. It would be easier to fall back into the blissful clutches of sleep if the weather would just co-operate, but that was apparently not going to happen.

Deciding to risk it, Kiera slowly opened her eyes, wincing as the slight pain (Surprisingly not as bad as usual) in her head increased with the light, bringing the memories of her drinking binge the night before. A small smirk crept over her face as she went through the night, very happy to discover no major holes in her recollection. Finally fully comprehending her surroundings, Kiera couldn't, for the life of her, remember walking to her bed. Biting her lip, Kiera fought back a smile. Who knew a feral could be so chivalrous as to carry her to her bed.

"I really have to tell Sasha to cut back on the care packages." She muttered, pulling herself out of bed, well aware sleep would continue to elude her at this point. "Vodka always comes back in the morning to bite me in the ass." Groaning, Kiera rubbed the sleep from her eyes, making her way towards the ensuite, intent on ensuring Logan was never subjected to the horrors of her post-drinking morning breath.

* * *

Pricking up his ears, Logan's stilled his movements as the sound of a running tap reached him. Kiera was obviously awake, meaning he would have to speak to her soon... Unless he chose to leave. Shaking his head, Logan growled at his own weakness, having been feeling off-balance since he woke that morning.

His hands slowly resumed the thoughtless, mechanical task of prepping coffee for two, as he slowly turned over the thoughts in his head. The most surprising thing, for him at least, was that he hadn't left yet. He had hesitated as he laid her out on her bed and tucked her in, finally deciding to climb in next to her. His Danger Room workout earlier had finally caught up with him and he really didn't feel like making the trek back to the mansion. Plus, considering the large quantities of alcohol the two had consumed, it seemed wise to stay and make certain Kiera didn't choke if she vomited in the night. He had curled up against her back, wrapped an arm around her waist, and fallen asleep wrapped in her scent.

And yet, the beast within him was calm. Even on the rare occasions he had allowed himself to spend the night at a woman's place, the minute he awoke, the instinctual need to run before the woman woke up would rear up in his chest. But somehow... with Kiera, the beast was quiet. Not just quiet, but balking at the idea of leaving. Which, in a way, made a little sense, it was Kiera after all. In the year he had been staying at the mansion, the two of them had become very close. If Logan really thought about it, it was like she had become a part of his pack. And yet... that just raised even greater concerns.

He poured out two cups of coffee, while gentle smirk tugged at his lips as her scent heralded Kiera's entrance. "Oh that smells good." He heard her say, as she walked into the small kitchen. "I could get used to this."

"I wouldn't." He replied, turning to pass her a mug, taking the moment to appreciate the curves she possessed, her body barely covered by the ancient Belmont Park T-shirt and black shorts she wore to sleep. All left only a little to the imagination, and Logan gritted his teeth in frustration. Was she trying to kill him? "I don't share my coffee freely. This is just so you don't go walking around exhausted all day, getting yourself hurt." Frowning he watched her move towards the fridge. "Don't tell me you..."

"I admit it; I'm a wuss when it comes to coffee, especially yours." She cried, throwing up her hands in mock surrender before reaching for the milk. "You make coffee strong enough to revive the dead Logan."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Taking a slug of the bitter liquid he had brewed, Logan tried to gather his thoughts into some kind of form that wouldn't be awkward. "Listen... About last night..." He winced at his hesitance. Apparently avoiding awkward was an impossible feat.

"If you're trying to apologize, don't." Kiera replied, cutting him off as she moved to lean up against the kitchen table, swallowing down her own creamy-brown mess. "You have nothing to apologise for."

"I took advantage of you Kiera!" he cried, his frustration creeping into his tone.

"No, you didn't."

"You were wasted out of your mind and I was barely buzzed. Explain to me how that isn't taking advantage of you?"

"Because I wasn't anywhere near as drunk as you seem to think." She snapped, her voice and face hardening slightly. "Look, Logan, I can handle you being chivalrous, but don't go pulling any of this macho bullshit with me. I am well aware of what happened last night and let me reiterate, you have NOTHING to apologize for." Leaning back, Kiera took another gulp of her coffee, and when she spoke again; her voice was softer, calmer. "I knew exactly what I was doing, exactly what you were doing, and exactly where it would lead Logan."

"That's just it, I don't think you do. I mean, have you ever even met a feral before?"

"I've met a few. Admittedly most of them have been kids..."

"Then you have no idea what you're getting into. Those kids you knew were just starting out in their lives, probably barely had any idea what the hell was going on with themselves, let alone what it could mean for other people." Growling, Logan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. This was not how he had wanted things to go.

He heard Kiera sigh quietly. "What is it that's bugging you Logan? Talk to me, ok. I promise I won't get mad." He felt her hand land gently on his shoulder. "I may get a little frustrated, but then again, I expect we both will."

Logan couldn't help it, the more understanding Kiera tried to be, the further his frustration grew. Snarling quietly, he slugged back the last of his coffee. "I... I can't... I gotta get outta here." He muttered striding for the door.

"Logan." She called, striding after him, but the man was too damn fast. Bracing herself against the doorframe, Kiera watched him jog back up to the mansion, wondering just what the hell was going on in that head of his. She supposed that if she really wanted to know, she could just read his mind.

_'Yeah, as if he wasn't pissed off enough at me to begin with.'_ She snarled to herself, turning away from her patio and closing the door behind her. _'Do that and you'd be no better than Grey girlie.'_ She grimaced in disgust at the thought, and gulped down the last of her coffee. She was not about to do anything that might even begin to put her on the same level as Jean.

_'So for now, I guess I just need to let him be. He'll talk when he has the words I guess.'_ She thought to herself, setting her mug down in the sink. She'd deal with it later. For now she needed a shower and a damn aspirin. And then, the long list of chores in her office called her name, never ceased calling her damn name.

* * *

He didn't feel like the Danger Room today. This wasn't the kind of frustration you could expel over a virtual battlefield or beat out across the surface of the gym's heavy bag. Right now he needed to be alone, to calm down, to think. Maybe after he managed to get his thoughts into some semblance of order he could go and pick Charles' brain. Or maybe Hank if Chuck was busy. _'Think Wheel's has that philosophy class this afternoon. Or maybe its English Lit. Who the hell can keep track anymore.'_

Somehow in his musings, Logan's feet had taken him to the second floor of the Mansion, to stand in front of a window overlooking the sprawling back lawns of the property. Off in the distance, he could see Kiera standing in the middle of her riding ring, directing those students who had chosen to learn how to ride through a variety of movements and patterns, not once casting even the barest glance up towards the Mansion. Then again, when she had a full day of things to do, Kiera could compartmentalize with the best of them. On top of that, Logan wasn't all that sure she really understood what last night might have meant to him, as a man, or a feral.

Logan's life had been a long and lonely one, particularly now that he couldn't remember much more than bits and pieces of anything before 1974. A Goddamn blank slate was all it was. For all his trips and questions over the years, he still only had tiny little pieces of what was starting to seem like a massively long life. All those huge gaps and chasms very often left him feeling hollow and ragged, unfit company for man and barely decent for beast most days. The alpha wolf within him balked violently against the loneliness, the missing pack. Wolves were social animals, craving the warmth and support of the pack, knowing there would always be creatures there to watch your back.

In a way, he supposed the X-men were as close to a pack as he had gotten in years, each of them fighting for their way of life, just to survive. But such a way of life took a toll on them all. Or at least he believed it took a toll on them all, sometimes he wondered if a few of them didn't enjoy the fights just a little too much these days. Who could tell?

Maybe he should leave, head off to find answers about his past and just focus on that for a while. Perhaps if he took the time to refocus, by the time he returned, he would have a better handle on what to do here, how to react to Kiera. She put him off balance, with her similar temperament and almost uncanny understanding of him. Then again, he could still recall the initial, disconcerting, reaction that had occurred within him the first time he'd seen her in the fields with her herd.

Prey. His inner wolf had seen prey in that herd and had started salivating and keening to hunt. This reaction worried him, had caused him to take a harder line with his inner best than perhaps he had ever before and the wolf had not appreciated it. He had begun taking far more care around Kiera and her horses, keeping a very firm grasp on himself until he felt safe beginning to relax around her. She had sensed this, and had asked him about it, following in the footsteps of all the alpha females that had come before her in her line. This again caused his inner wolf to balk, but this time, it piqued the beast's interest. It had been a long time since a woman had possessed the stones to challenge him and he still wasn't all that sure how to respond.

He supposed the main issue lay in his inability to describe that first battle to Kiera, found himself unable to describe the predator mentality to someone who had lived her life surrounded by prey animals. She understood his prey, thrived among them, and as a result, his wolf had seen her as prey, an incredibly dangerous thing.

As the battle within him raged, he watched (But didn't really see) the riding lesson wind up. The students dismounted and began leading their mounts back to the stable. He watched Kiera watch them go, stealing a moment in the quiet to just breathe. He watched a gentle breeze toy with the loose strands of her hair and the sun beat down on her face. But the prey instincts ran deep in her. She knew she was being watched and it got her hackles up.

_'Do horses even have hackles? Or is that just us dogs?'_ Logan wondered randomly as he watched Kiera tense up slightly, looking around to see if she could spot him. It took less time than he thought for her to turn and catch his gaze. Sunlit emeralds met mahogany and so many things swirled around in their eyes. A silent conversation was taking place, her questioning, him, not quite sure how to explain.

It was over in a second. Her eyes flicked to something over his shoulder and he watched her face transform. Her mouth compressed into a grim line before her neutral walls went up and she turned away and began to follow her students, once again closing this particular compartment to be dealt with later.

He knew without turning around what Kiera had seen, and was hardly surprised when he heard Jean's voice behind him. "You're looking particularly pensive today Logan." She said, coming up to stand beside him. He tensed slightly as he felt her run a hand up his back and then down his arm. The move could easily be interpreted as sensual, and he hoped that Scott was nowhere around to see this. He wasn't really in the mood for a fight tonight (A strange feeling for him). "Anything I can help with?"

"I highly doubt it Jean." Logan replied, turning away from the window and began walking again. Jean was less able to make these seductive plays when she was moving, and Logan was not in the mood to deal with that.

"And how would you know if you don't talk to me?" She asked, falling into step beside him, though Logan felt a slight smirk tug at the corners of his lips at her obvious struggle to do so in the ridiculously high heels she was wearing. "We used to talk all the time Logan." She all but whined.

"And then you and Scott got married." Logan replied, trotting down the stairs, wondering where he might find Chuck or Hank and escape this conversation.

"Just because I'm married doesn't mean we have to stop being friends Logan."

"Oh come on Jean." Logan growled. "We were never really friends. I was your back-up plan, just in case Scott didn't work out. And now that you're married, you still want to keep me around for that just in case moment. And you know what," Logan turned to her, watching confusion and anger blossom over her face. "That used to be enough for me. I used to be fine with maybe and someday. But let's face it Jean, you aren't going to be leaving Scott any time soon and he is most certainly not going to be leaving you, unless he finds out what you've been doing to me and Kiera."

"And just what have I been doing to you and Kiera?" Jean snapped.

"You've been trying to manipulate her into doing what you want and getting pissed when she refuses to bend. You don't like it when people refuse you, do you Jeannie?" He asked, snarling softly and not really expecting an answer. "But that's what happens when you take on the alpha. Sometimes you get shut down."

"I do not manipulate her!"

"I never said you did, I said you try. Thing is, Kiera's more stubborn than you and won't let you succeed like you have been with me." Logan shook his head, more in astonishment at the realization of what he had allowed all these years. "I'm tired Jean, and I don't want to play this game with you anymore." With that, he walked away, too tired to listen to what she might have to say. He knew that she would probably keep trying to manipulate him, and chances were good he would continue to allow it. It was their routine, their relationship, and as much as he said he was done with it, it would take time to change, even if he actually meant it.

Shaking his head, Logan decided he couldn't wait for Chuck to get out of class. Taking a turn, he strode down the halls towards the elevator that would take him down to the laboratories. Hopefully Hank wouldn't be too busy.


	4. A Step Into Hell

The soft whoosh of the elevator doors mingled with the distant strains of classical music drifting down through the air as Logan made his way down toward Hank's favourite weekend haunt, his lab. In between the weeks spent on the road or in DC dealing with the necessary evil that is the political clime, this was one of Hank's preferred sanctuary, researching vaccines and treatments for various maladies known to afflict mutants.

Placing his hand on the scanner at the door, Logan opted not to knock. Hank was one of the few mutants on this planet with a sense of smell as sensitive as his own and if the furball hadn't noticed his scent yet, chances were good that he was so engrossed in something that he really wouldn't appreciate the interruption violent distraction of knocking.

"I shall be with you momentarily Logan." Hank murmured distractedly, never taking his safety goggled-eyes off the tray of miniscule testing containers before him. Logan held his tongue as he watched Dr. Hank McCoy's massive hands performed this delicate task with a practiced grace. Feeling more than a little bored waiting, Logan took the opportunity to glance around the sterile environment that he so rarely found himself in. Everywhere he looked was gleaming chrome and white surfaces, entirely the opposite of what he was comfortable with. His world coincided more with the wild forests of the Rocky's, or some rough, undiscovered part of Europe, though, granted he did prefer the Rocky's. Being surrounded by these sterile, clinical instruments brought his hackles up, reminding him of what Stryker and his bitches had done to him, what they had made him do for them.

"There, now that that's dealt with, what can I do for you Logan?" Hank asked, thoroughly derailing Logan's train of thought, something for which he was more than a little thankful.

"I need to talk to someone and you're probably one of the few people who would understand in this place." Logan grimaced as he tried to order his thoughts, but he wasn't even sure where to begin. "It's about Kiera and... I'm not sure where to start." He finished, growling (pathetically in his mind). Hank didn't speak for a few minutes; just watched Logan for a time, doing nothing to decrease the feral's discomfort. The idea of being watched irritated Logan, once again reminding him of a past that he would much rather forget. "Would you just say something!"

"Please forgive me Logan, but what would you have me say?" Hank asked, shrugging his shoulders. "This is hardly a situation that comes under my purview all that often and without more information, I can hardly be asked to render appropriate advice." As he spoke, Logan's restlessness began to eat at him, to try and get a handle on it, he began to pace, still feeling Hank's eyes on him. "Now, you have mentioned this matter concerns Kiera. Should you not, then, discuss it with her?"

"That's why I'm here Blue. I have no fucking clue how to do that!" Logan exclaimed, not even noticing Hank's wince at the half-intended curse word. "I barely have any idea what I'm doing, how in the hell am I going to explain it to her?"

Sighing softly, Hank moved to the trash bin, disposing of the XXXL latex gloves with a loud snap. "Perhaps, in absence of the professor, Jean would be..."

"I can't talk to Jean about this." Logan interrupted, drawing Hank's eyes back to him. "She... she can't be objective." He finished lamely.

"Objective." Hank replied, arching a brow. Logan grimaced once more, not really wanting to go into details about that particular situation. The more people knew how Jean was acting, the more likely it would get back to Summers, and Summers would most likely blow his top at Logan, if only because he couldn't bring himself to blame Jean for the situation. _'I may enjoy needling the self-righteous little prick every now and then, but even I'm not that cruel.'_

"Yeah, objective." Logan snapped, his tone booking no arguments. "Look, Kiera and I have been getting along really well and... God-damnit." He muttered, planting his face in his hands. "I sound like such a fucking pussy."

"You really care for her don't you?" Hank asked quietly.

"Well obviously. She and I are good friends with each other..." A single, chiding, look from Hank silenced Logan's excuses. Taking a breath, Logan tried to steady his nerves, to get his thoughts in order. "Yeah, yeah I guess I do."

"And how does Wolverine feel about her?" Hank asked, walking back over to perch on a nearby stool.

"These days, I haven't a freaking clue. He saw her as prey the first time we spotted her around her horses. She was walking around the paddocks and he started keening to hunt." Logan replied, grimacing at the thought. "Since then, I've been keeping a tight leash on him around her. I don't want him to think either group is free game for him."

"You don't want your more aggressive nature to come out towards her or her herd." Hank said, the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips. Logan had always been one to be overprotective of those under his care and Kiera, at this point he supposed, had come under his care. _'Oh, if Kiera ever finds out he thinks about her like that, there WILL be hell to pay, even for Logan.'_ Hank thought, fighting down a snicker. _'I wonder if she would let me watch. I don't believe I've ever put him through such an extreme stress test as she will.'_

"They're not toys for Wolverine to screw around with. Kiera cares for her horses and I am not willing to put them at risk if I can't control him." Logan growled, not willing to even consider the consequences of losing control around Kiera or her herd. _'Kiera relaxes me; she relaxes my control.' _Probably part of the reason this was affecting him so badly, the loss of control.

"Are you sure Wolverine does consider them toys?" Hank replied, turning to his computer as it beeped to alert him to his results. Although, this turn had a twofold benefit as the massive doctor just simply could not contain his smirk anymore. While he had to admit that it was probably a little unfair of him to allow Logan to continue to spin like this, Hank also knew quite well, what the actual problem here was. Hank was also well aware that Kiera would not thank him for interfering too much in this situation. More than likely, she would quietly come down to his lab and mentally kick his ass, breaking her usual rules pertaining to her powers.

"I think I know pretty damn well what his reactions mean McCoy." Logan snapped, rolling his eyes.

"No, I mean now Logan. Since you've been keeping such a tight rein on him, how on earth do you know what he still thinks of them? For all you know, your rigid control around her might have made him think twice about his initial reaction to her."

"I doubt it." Logan replied, bitterly.

Sighing, Hank threw up his hands in resignation. "What would you like me to do Logan? I cannot tell you how to handle this situation you're in as you are the one involved in it. You and Kiera are the only ones who can truly understand what this issue calls for and so are the only ones who can solve the matter." Turning to Logan, Hank observed him for a moment, noting just how frustrated his friend was. Control was not something Logan liked to give up or share being the alpha male that he was.

"Why the hell do you think I'm here Blue!" Logan exploded. "You and Chuck are the ones with the words. How in the hell am I supposed to fix this situation if I have no fucking clue how to explain it!"

"Logan, please." Hank chided gently. He watched quietly, timing his next comments carefully; allow Logan time to calm himself. "How on earth do you know the situation does need to be fixed as opposed to simply being cleared up? You know Kiera better than I do and I'm sure you know full well how much she hates having people decide what's best for her. She won't thank you for it and you know that." At Logan's silence, Hank continued. "You have the words inside you. The one puzzle piece you are missing is Kiera and her input. There is nothing that I or Charles can tell you to say that you don't already know. All that's left to do now is for you and her to discuss things, much as it may pain you to do so."

Once again, Logan didn't say a word. Both mutants remained silent for a moment, Logan, thinking over the hell he was about to go through, Hank thinking over the conversation and its implications. He had an idea of what was coming. Perhaps it was a good thing Charles had planned to take the students out to a movie. Chances were good, things were going to get messy.


	5. In the Heat of the Night

**OK, Just so you all know, there is the implication of adult situations here in this chapter as well as an overabundance of foul language. If this is something that will offend you DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER! I am not going to put up with a bunch of reviews from people complaining about the fact that they were offended by the language or the impications, particularly now that I have given you fair warning.**

**The glory and wonder of the internet is that if you don't like something, there is both a back button as well as a plethora of links to other websites that you can go to. My suggestion to you is that if this is the case, you take advantage of these wonderous ammenities.**

**One last warning is that I think I might have made Logan a little OOC in the last chapter and I think the trend might have continued into this one. If you have some suggestions as to how this might be recified, I'd be more than happy to hear them, though I make no promises to impliment them.**

**I thank you for entertaining my rant/content warning, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Review if you want, or don't.**

**CC**

* * *

Kiera enjoyed the twilight hours. Sitting out on the deck she had added on to the upper level of her stables, she revelled in the quiet that surrounded it. All the students were tucked away in the mansion, her horses either roaming happily in their paddocks or dozing in their stalls and the soft rustling of the trees made this one of the few moments of true peace she ever got in a day.

'_Then again, listening to Logan puttering around my kitchen was pretty damn peaceful.'_ She thought, gently fingering the long neck of a beer bottle at her side. _'And that coffee he made... damn stuff could wake the dead. I could use a pot of that stuff every now and then.'_ Frowning, Kiera took a long pull of her beer, barely tasting it as the cool liquid danced on her tongue. Logan hadn't been down to see her in a few days and it was starting to irritate her. She may not be a feral, may not fully understand what went on in the mind of a predator, but that didn't mean she didn't have a clue as to how they thought. Prey animals used the same instincts and thought processes predators did, just in a different way. _'Maybe I need to find a way to show him that, show him that if he would just let me IN, I might actually understand what's going on with him.'_

"Yeah, and maybe then I can cure world hunger and find the fountain of youth while I'm at it." She muttered, slugging back the last of her beer before tossing the bottle into the recycling bin, listening to the clattering of glass and metal before the silence regained control.

"Sounds like you've got yourself an ambitious plan of attack there Kiera." Her eyes locked on to his as Logan paused at the top of her stairs. "Can I come up?"

"Sure, pull up a seat." Kiera replied, trying to keep her voice light, but fully aware that it was probably pointless for her to do. The man was, literally, part wolf and any tension she was feeling would translate into both her body and her scent. She cursed Logan in the back of her mind for making her feel this way; even though she knew it wasn't entirely his fault. He couldn't help it that he was so distractingly attractive, that the rough timber in his voice had started to regularly send shivers down her spine, that his... scent she supposed, or something in it had slowly begun to make her want to jump him, ravage him, have her wicked way... _'NO!'_ she thought, violently wrenching herself from that runaway train of thought. _'If he can smell tension, he can most assuredly smell arousal. That kind of thinking needs to stop right - freaking - NOW!'_

Taking a moment, Kiera turned away from Logan as he flopped down on the chair beside her, watching the sun slowly crept lower and lower into the sky. Normally, the silences between the two of them were easy and comfortable, but this one just twisted and festered in her gut. Finally able to bear it no longer, she sighed, taking a minute to choose her words. "So... are we going to talk about this?"

Logan had known this was coming. Kiera was so straightforward, so direct; he should have known that it would be the first thing she would have brought up. But did he want it brought up? Could he actually explain what was going on in his head? Did he want to? "Can I get a beer first?" he asked, trying to order his thoughts.

"Sure. Gimmie a sec." She replied, getting up from her chair. "You want a lager or pale ale?"

"Lager if you don't mind." Logan stayed silent, listening to Kiera walking back to her laundry room where she kept her beer fridge. When she was safely tucked away in the bowels of her apartment, Logan let out a slow breath. He was pretty damn sure about what he scented on her. It wasn't exactly a scent he was unfamiliar with, just not one he was sure how to handle with Kiera. He was hardly a blushing virgin, for God's sake, he'd been alive since before the 1970's. He'd slept with more than his fair share of women in a series of one night stands. As a result, the scent of arousal was nothing, if not familiar. But this was Kiera, his friend, one he wanted to keep around for as long as humanly possible. But that meant actually talking over the uncomfortable situation that had arisen between them as well as his plans to leave. Growling softly, Logan hunched forward, resting his arms on his knees, rubbing his forehead, trying to stave off the headache he felt forming behind his eyes. This was getting far too complicated for his liking.

The feel of a chilly bottle being gently pressed against his shoulder shook Logan out of his reverie. Turning, he took the bottle, spotting the concern in Kiera's eyes as she took her seat. Choosing to watch the sunset for just a little bit longer, Logan took a slug of the lager. As the minutes ticked by, Logan quietly inhaled Kiera's scent. Concern had started to override the... tension he had scented earlier, but she was starting to slowly relax again. Then again, given where the tension was probably coming from, he wasn't surprised that a little bit still clung to her scent. Not to sound arrogant, but aroused tension never really went away around the object of one's affections. Now what the hell was he going to do with that information?

Might as well start with the more painful aspect of the conversation. "I'm sorry." He muttered, feeling her frown against his shoulder. "I shouldn't have run out on ya the last time we talked. Probably didn't help matters at that point."

"Bit of a moot point now ain't it?" she replied, her voice even, her scent going just a little haywire.

"Maybe, but you still deserved an apology."

Even without looking at her, Logan could hear the wheels turning in Kiera's head. He appreciated the fact that she was trying to choose the right words, but he was beginning to miss the times where she would just say whatever the hell she felt like to him. "Logan, you said a few days ago that I didn't know what I was getting into with you. I wonder do you know what you're getting into with me." Confused, Logan turned to Kiera, watching her face carefully. "Everybody knows predators are fierce and aggressive fighters, but do you know how fierce your prey can be?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how foolish your inner wolf is if he feels that my horses and I would make good prey." Logan balked a bit, both at the accurate assessment of him as well as the blunt insult. A humourless smirk crossed her face at his double-take. She had been guessing. "Guess I'm not so clueless about the inner workings of a wolf's mind after all."

"How did you..."

"If I'm to live and care for a prey animal, I need to have at least a basic understanding of their natural enemies." Dropping her bottle down onto a nearby table, Kiera shifted, leaning into him. "Wolves are usually smart enough to know not to mess with the bigger herd animals, usually going for the elderly members of the herd or the odd foal if they're suicidal and lucky." Cocking her head to the side, Kiera watched as Logan focused on the horizon, avoiding her eyes. "The herd is very protective of its members, and when threatened, the alpha couple with fight to the death to protect their followers. It's one of the reason's wolf packs don't use them as a regular food source. Too difficult a fight for no guarantee of a kill."

"And the point of this little lecture is?" Logan growled as he turned away, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as she spoke.

"That no matter what your inner wolf initially thinks about me and mine, we can take care of ourselves. Besides," her hand reached up, gently forcing him to look at her. "I highly doubt that either you or your wolf is stupid enough to try anything against my horses. We can hold our own, you know that."

Logan stared at her, taking in what she was saying. In his shock, the tight control over his feral nature he had started to make standard around Kiera slipped. His wolf keened quietly in his head, responding to her scent and her challenge. One thing Logan had not become used to living at the Manor was people challenging him. For the most part, the others living here were too intimidated by him to challenge him in anyway. "What's going on with us Logan? We can't fix things unless both of us know what's wrong."

"I don't know what's wrong." He muttered. "And that pisses me off. You throw me Kiera. You don't react to things the same way as others do. You fight back with me when others are too spooked to. You don't stand for any kind of bullshit; hell you've even got Pyro behaving a bit better than normal lately." Wrenching his face out of her hands, Logan stood, scrubbing his hands over his face, unsure how to continue.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you for the compliments, can I assume they're compliments?" Kiera asked, jokingly, chuckling quietly at Logan's smirk. "But, perhaps in the spirit of solving this problem, you ought to give me the slightly advanced tour of psyche."

Sighing slightly, Logan considered where to begin. "Do you know how old I am?" He asked, wondering how much she had heard from the other residents of the school.

"I have an idea." She replied. "Mostly amassed from information given by the teachers here, the kids all just assume you're ancient." That elicited a wry chuckle at least. "The professor told me pre-1970. Beyond that, with your healing factor, I'd just be grasping at smoke."

"And I'm sure the professor also told you that 1970 is the first year I have any memories of." Rolling his shoulders, Logan felt the metal covering his bones click against itself. "And ever since then, there's been this void, like when you start reading a book halfway through, you know some of the story, but you can't help but feel like you're missing some really big parts of the story. I don't know where I came from, or what parts of my life might have made me into what I am today." Logan grimaced a bit, he was rambling. "Since then, I've mostly been living by my own code, my own instincts."

"Sounds lonesome."

"You don't even know the half of it. Come to think of it, I don't even know the half of it." Kiera smiled, but didn't laugh at Logan's black humour. "The thing about ferals is that they are, in the end, very animalistic, very primal. We see things, more often than not, in black and white, food or threat."

"I'm I still falling in the food category?"

"I think you're in the clear on that one." Logan replied, smirking.

"So, by you logic, I must then be a threat." Kiera smiled evilly. "I think I like that idea."

"Ok, so it's not always so simple, but you get the point." Glancing over at her, a low rumbling laugh shuddered through Logan's frame. "And wipe that smile off your face; you look like a bad super-villain." Giggling quietly, Kiera stuck her tongue out at him, but said no more. "When Wolverine saw you the first time, he thought of you as prey. Since then, how you've challenged me, how you've reacted to me, how you've talked to me has all changed how he views you. And I don't know what's coming."

"Is it the lack of control between us that bothers you?" Kiera asked, leaning up against the railing, watching his face. "The fact that you don't have to take care of me, maybe?"

"No it's... ah damn, I don't know." Logan sighed, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

Kiera allowed the silence to rein as she studied his face, her frown deepening. Logan knew what was coming before she spoke by the suspicion slowly beginning to color her scent. "Or... is this still about that night?" At his silence, frustration and anger swiftly took over her scent. "Damn it Logan, are you still on about that?" she exclaimed. "How many times are we going to argue about this?"

Now Logan was starting to get pissed. "I don't know Kiera, why don't you tell me?" he growled, his face darkening with anger. "You were drunk and I..."

"You did not, for the last fucking time, take advantage of me." Kiera hissed, her green eyes glittering with anger as Logan felt her nails dig small crescents into his arm. "For the last goddamn time, I kissed YOU, I jumped YOU, and I remember every fucking detail about it!" The look of shock on his face made her roll her eyes. "As I have told you over and over and over again, I was hardly as drunk as you seem to think and I am nowhere NEAR the blushing virgin you seem to believe I am." Dropping his arm, Kiera raked a hand through her hair, shoving the stray hairs back. "While I am sure I have not had the same number of sexual partners you have, I'm not exactly inexperienced in the bedroom."

"I didn't think you were."

"Then what the fuck is the matter with you?" She yelled, stepping into him. "Are you so consumed by your own tragedy, your own pain that you don't think anyone else is capable of shouldering it with you? Do you actually believe the crap Grey has been feeding you about having to protect people from yourself? Well news flash, I don't fucking need protecting, and I sure as hell don't want protection!"

"Well too damn bad!" Logan roared. "Because unfortunately, with a wolf taking up half of my brain, protection is what you are going to get! I don't know what's in my head; all I know is that I am a good, goddamn killer and I cannot risk losing control around people!"

"So you're going to run now, that it?" Kiera snapped, refusing to back down, to cower in the face of his furious temper. "The going gets tough, the road gets a little rocky and you turn tail and head for the hills?"

Logan's blue eyes flashed like polished steel, even in the growing darkness. "I thought I told you to stay the hell..."

"Oh get over yourself Logan. I'm not in your head; you're just that fucking predictable." Kiera let out a frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of her nose to stave off the headache that was starting to add yet another dimension to her scent. After a moment she squared her shoulders, bringing her eyes back up to clash with his. "You're determined to do this," she murmured, "and obviously nothing I can say right now is going to make any fucking whit of difference at this point. But before you get the hell of my deck, I want you to try something on for size."

What came next was most assuredly nothing he had expected, Kiera being as pissed off at him as she was. Before he could react, the hot-tempered blonde had reached up, grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to her. The instant their lips connected, all the sensations Logan had shoved away from that night, deep down into the blackest regions of his memories came flooding back. Fireworks went off in his head and Wolverine went ballistic, howling and salivating at what might be coming. His mind started noticing just how well the generous curves of her form fit against his body, while other parts of him started screaming about how nicely these curves felt and would feel in his hands.

But the instant his body overcame the shock of the situation and he moved his hands to grasp her hips, he felt himself being shoved backwards. The instant he had reacted, she had halted things. Now she stood before him, her eyes glittering like emeralds with fury, her scent heady with anger and just a little lust. "Maybe that will convince you that I am NOT one of your girls, I do not need you to take care of me, and that my desire to kiss you stupid does NOT translate into you taking advantage of me." Turning on her heel, she strode to her door, yanking it open. Pausing, she fixed him with another furious glare. "Now get the fuck off my deck before I decide it would be endlessly fun to turn your life into a hellish nightmare from which you will never wake!" She hissed before slamming the door behind her as she stormed into her place.

That final, definitive punctuation of their argument echoed around him as Logan fought to come back to his senses. Not the easiest thing to do with your libido going 5 miles a minute and the primal aspect of your personality snarling at you in rage and frustration for not taking the given opportunity. Forcing himself to breath, Logan turned and walked (Well, actually staggered would have been a more accurate description) back to the mansion.

From the window in her kitchen, Kiera watched him go, her veins still coursing with anger. But she defied any woman in the world to be able to keep from smiling at the sight of a man staggering around like he's drunk after being kissed by her. _'I wonder if he can even tell I'm watching'_ she thought, pulling back behind the wall as Logan glanced back. _'He's usually so intuitive, it's almost like he's psychic.'_

Stepping back into her apartment, Kiera moved to the bathroom, taking the time to splash cold water on her face. She needed to calm down, but god had she stirred up a hornet's nest. That kiss had been even better than the last time, with fireworks and fanfare going off in her head. _'Then again, maybe it wasn't better, maybe I'm just that much more sober.'_ Once again scooping up some water, Kiera rubbed it over her face and the back of her neck, hoping to cool her lust. Bracing herself against the sink, Kiera breathed, trying to focus her thoughts on the cool porcelain beneath her hands, the rich warm woods that surrounded her in her private sanctuary, anything to help cool her blood.

After 15 minutes, she had to accept that this was not going away without some help. Chuckling quietly, she raised her head to gaze at her reflection. "Well," she muttered, a wry smirk, "you asked for this. You were the one who kissed him after all." Grabbing a hand towel, she mopped up the moisture on her face, sighing quietly. Her decision now made, she strode into her bedroom to take matters into her own hands. She would hash out the other aspects of their argument in the morning, right now, she just needed to unwind and get some sleep.


	6. The Long Goodbye

Grimacing, Logan shot a glare at the window, as though the sheer magnitude of his disapproval would sent the storm clouds scattering as it often did with his young students. While it certainly wasn't pouring down as he had often seen happen around Vancouver or raining freaking sideways as was wont to happen during the monsoon season in Thailand, the steady drizzle that had settled itself over Westchester County would still be a righteous pain in the ass, particularly on his bike. He wondered quietly if he still had any of that saddle soap Kiera had given him. Her own special blend, she had told him, that would both keep his leather supple as well as slightly waterproof thanks to the significant amount of grape-seed oil she mixed in.

Shooting one last glance at the pattern of streaks and drops covering his window, Logan sighed. He would just have to rent a room sometime in the next 8 hours or so and give his gear a good rub down. "Not really sure when I last weather-proofed that stuff." He muttered, trying to think back. Shaking his head, he began to slowly shove the last of his necessities into the two large saddlebags that he would soon swing over the back of his Harley as he rode off into the proverbial sunset. He wanted to travel light, no more than what he could take with him in the old army bag he kept folded under the seat of his bike.

Quickly, he ran over the initial stages of his plan. He'd head out within the next half hour or so and head north. An ancient buddy from his days wandering Japan of his was looking for a gift for his grandson (kid had just gotten his motorcycle licence.) What better gift than a Harley Davidson? The kid would be raving about it for years to come which would promote Ole Yuri up to the level of 'Best Granddad Ever' for probably the rest of his born days. In exchange, Yuri would give him the beat up old pickup he always kept out in the barn. Not really the fairest trade in the world, especially given how much work he was sure that old heap would need, but it was high time he picked up a new bike anyway. It would be a Harley; it would always be a Harley. Probably try picking up another old beater from his day, give another go at making her sparkle again. It would mean less time stuck for days on end in the mansion, something a little more than virtual figures in the Danger Room to beat his hands against.

Logan smiled as he thought of it, remembering those months he had spent out in the garage all those years ago, gradually improving the bike he had now. There had been fewer Danger Room sessions during those months as he could recall, with the bike acting as a secondary outlet for any aggression and anger he would feel. The pain of rapping his knuckles on the inner workings of his girl's engine, while fleeting, often served to redirect some of the angry feelings that would flow through him now and then. It might prove to be a good investment to repeat the process.

Spotting a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, Logan sighed. He had hoped to avoid dealing with this today, but obviously that wasn't meant to be. "What do you want Jean?" He called, not even sparing a glance towards the psychic at his door as he continued to move about his room, gathering his things.

Jean lowered the arm she had been about to knock with and stepped into the room. "You know, sometimes I wonder if you don't actually have some kind of psychic ability." She was trying to joke, he realised. Too bad it really wasn't her forte. Or maybe he was just getting really tired of her attempts to worm her way back into an influential position in his life.

And so he said nothing, simply continued packing, hopefully she would either get to the point or get out. Behind his back, Logan felt more than heard the nervously frustrated sigh. "So you're leaving us again. Any idea for how long?"

"Depends on what kind of answers I can find."

Jean sighed once more, once again highly frustrated. "Logan, we've been over this. You have to find these things out on your own. I can't just tell you what you were."

"Wasn't asking you to." Feeling as though there wasn't anything he had forgotten Logan grabbed his bags, preparing to go. Flipping the hood of the sweatshirt he wore over his head, Logan moved to grab the leather jacket he had flung over the back of a nearby chair. As he moved, the jacket spontaneously began to float towards him. Rolling his eyes, Logan snatched the jacket out of the air and slipped it on over his sweatshirt, hoping the leather would at least keep him somewhat dry and the sweatshirt would keep him reasonably warm.

"You're welcome." Jean uttered, incredulous.

"It was two steps Jean and I didn't ask you to do it." Logan replied, stepping around her and out into the hall, swinging the bags up over his shoulder as he went. "I thought it would have been obvious, particularly to you Jean, that I am not a child who needs to have his things brought to him."

"I never said you were, but is it such a bad thing for me to want to help you? Even with a small thing like this?" Reaching out, Jean clutched at his arm, desperation coloring her scent. Unbidden, the kiss Kiera had slapped him with the night before floated to the forefront of his mind. The passion of the kiss, the strength she had used to yank him down to her, the towering fury she had shown him, all were at such complete odds with the cringing desperate woman before him. "What happened to us Logan? We used to be so close, such good friends." Logan felt her fingers digging even harder into his flesh at his silence. "Logan..."

"Hey Logan." The speed at which Jean dropped his arm was staggering. But then again, that was generally the trend when ones husband showed up while you were trying to worm your way back into the good graces of your other man. "Hi sweetheart." Wrapping an arm around Jean's waist, Scott planted a soft kiss against her temple. Quietly, Logan wondered to himself how he could have ever imagined coming between them. Scott adored Jean, for reasons he was slowly becoming less and less aware of.

She had played them, was still trying to play them. The look she was giving him could not have been more obvious if she had broken into his mind and laid out her intentions for his inner eye to see. But this time he chose to turn his attention back to Scott. "So you're leaving us again, huh? Where are you headed this time?" As he spoke, Scott kept his arm possessively entwined about his wife's waist; still thinking Logan's wolf would suddenly rear up and start ravaging her.

A small smirk played at the corner of Logan's lips as he replied. "A buddy's place first. I owe him a favour. He's been looking for a decent bike to give to his grandson ever since the kid got his licence and apparently my old Harley fits the bill."

"But you love that bike." Jean exclaimed, her eyes wide. He sensed her shock and, in a way, understood it. Logan was not a man who changed his ways easily and yet, here he was, ready to give up his most prized possession. It shocked even him a little bit.

So he shrugged. "Yeah, I love her. The old girl's done a lot for me over the years. But that kid's going to love her just as much as I have for probably the better part of his life, and I think it's time to start rebuilding another one. Make some new memories with a new bike." Shooting a quick glance at Jean, he groaned inwardly. She was reading far too deeply into this, seeing herself as the old Harley, about to be replaced by another. _'Damnit! I really do not need this kind of aggravation today.'_ He thought, pulling his gaze back to Scott.

"Planning another restoration session?" the shaded man asked, now actively curious. He and Logan might, at one point, have been rivals for the same woman, but that hardly meant they couldn't appreciate some of the same things. Scott had always been interested in his bike, just never quite had the personality or the stones to ride one. _'Not yet any way, but maybe down the road.'_

"Yeah. Thinkin' about a two-fer this time. Yuri is going to swap me a beat up old junker he likes to call a pick-up truck for the Harley." Glancing around at the school, Logan slowly started for the door, Scott and Jean slowly falling into step alongside him. "Figured I'd fix that one up first, if it's possible, then maybe pick up a new bike to work on."

Scott nodded thoughtfully. "School could use another work truck. Kiera could use the one we have now to help her, without it interfering so much with anything else that might be going on here at the school." Logan made no comment on the soft wince that crossed Jean's face at the mention of her rival's name.

"That was the idea." Logan said, glancing about, quietly wondering just how much this place would change in the time he'd be gone. Just how long would he be gone this time? And bearing that in mind, would this trip actually shed any light on the issues he was having with Kiera and his feelings for her. "Besides, since she's started forging all her horses' shoes, she needs the space to store her forge and her materials."

"Forging shoes. Well I suppose that is fairly impressive." Jean muttered begrudgingly.

Scott either ignored or chose not to comment on his wife's petulant tone. "She's been taking on a lot of responsibility over there hasn't she?" he said as he glanced out one of the many windows, out towards the lawn being spattered with rain. "We might want to try broaching the subject of hiring on some help for her again."

"You go ahead and do that Scotty-boy. Just wait till I get back so I can keep her from hurting you too badly for the implication." Giving Scott a firm clap to the shoulder, Logan began to stride towards the door. "You know how she hates taking on any kind of help from outside the school. Doesn't trust it."

"With all the extra weight she's been taking on, and with you hitting the road, you would think she'd welcome an extra pair of hands." Jean's tone stopped Logan in his tracks, nearly causing divots in the brickwork of the front of the Manor. Snide and scheming, it caused his vision to tinge red ever so slightly and him to turn on his heels, ready to finally shut Jean up.

A pleasant surprise occurred though, when Scott beat him to the punch. "It's not that she's against the help honey," Scott said, his voice slightly reproachful. "She just prefers to do things her way. She usually makes the kids in her lessons help her out, but with them having their own schedules to deal with, they can't always do everything that needs doing. Having her forge any of the shoes the horses need is actually a really cost effective option for the school. Now all we need is to see if we can find an extra set of hands to help her out that she would be willing to take on. She's going to run herself ragged otherwise."

"I know Big Blue is more than happy to help her whenever he's able to, but let's face it, that's few and far between at best." Logan said, eager to leave and feel the rush of freedom running through his veins. He got a brief taste of that feeling as the wind shifted, brushing over the side of his face. "Whenever he's not occupied with something in Washington, there's something here at the school that needs his attention. The same goes for the rest of us. We've all got our own responsibilities." Taking a few, quiet breaths, Logan smirked, scanning his surroundings before resting his eyes on a small patch of shadows clustered at the side of the mansion, waiting for him. "I'm sure you'll have figured something out by the time I get back." Shifting his feet, Logan made a decision. He held out a hand to Scott. "I suppose this is goodbye for now Cy. Try not to get yourself into too much trouble while I'm gone."

That caused Scott to let loose a barking laugh. "You arrogant bastard." He laughed, reaching forward and clasping Logan's hand in his. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Arching an eyebrow, Logan smirked. "So... What, you want me to enter the priesthood?"

"Whatever man, just try and stay out of trouble alright?" Scott asked, rolling his eyes as he stepped back, moving to wind his arm about Jean's waist.

"You know me Scott, couldn't stay out of trouble if I tried." Turning, Logan nodded his head slightly. "Stay safe Jean." He said, turning away, not even bothering a glance back as he heard her murmur a response as he strode over to the garage.

As Scott stared after the feral, his smile shrunk ever so slightly. Glancing down at Jean, the little voice in the back of Scott' mind began to whisper to him, wondering exactly what he had just witnessed going on between Logan and his wife. "Come on Jean." He said, deciding to leave the question for another day. "We've got to get to class."

As the couple turned and headed inside, Logan rounded the shady corner of the mansion. "They're gone Kiera." He said, pausing in his walk. "You can come out now."

"Didn't think a scene between Jean and me would have been the most appropriate thing for the time." A shadow slowly detached from the wall as a slightly dripping Kiera came into view. Her hair darkened and plastered to her body by the falling rain, but it didn't seem to faze her. "So this is it? You're leaving?"

"Seems like." He replied, wondering just where this was going.

Kiera sighed, frustration coloring her scent, but frustration at what, Logan wasn't sure. "Look, what happened between us last night is over and done with." She said, shaking her bangs out of her eyes. "Now, I'm not going to lie, I don't want you to go. I like having you here."

"If only because you find it fun to make my life a nightmare?" He asked, a joking smile tugging at his lips.

Her laugh was quiet, and yet it echoed against the brickwork of the manor. "Among other things." She replied. There was a pause as she slowly considered what to say next, unwilling to allow her meaning to be lost in nuances and double meanings. It was a trait Logan often wished he number amongst his strengths. Often times, when it was most important that he be heard, was when Logan was the most careless with his tongue. The frustration would be too much for his short fuse. And though her fuse was no longer than his, Logan noticed that the more important the argument was to her, the harder Kiera would try to keep her composure and make herself heard. "I'm going to miss you Logan." She said, finally settling on the safer option.

"I'll miss you to kid." He replied, smirking.

Rolling her eyes, Kiera took a half-hearted swipe at his arm, one he easily dodged. "That was your one free pass Old man." She said, smirking as Logan growled low at her, trying her best to quash the shivers running up her spine. "So... how long are you going to be gone?"

As the words left her lips, Logan marvelled at the difference between two near identical questions. A single hesitation, a different phrasing, and a question that had annoyed him beyond belief earlier that day now made him wonder.

And so he shrugged and gave her the same answer he had given Jean. "Depends on what kind of answers I can find I guess."

Unlike this morning though, Kiera paused, staring at him. "What kind of answers are you looking for?" His confusion was obvious as she continued. "Are you looking to find out who you are... or what you've done?" she asked, taking a step towards him, raising her right hand as though to stroke his cheek. But hesitation once again prevailed and it fell back to play with the pendant at her neck.

"Who I am would probably be a good start." Logan said, eyeing her. "Kiera... Kiera, I need to find this out on my own."

"I know." She replied, nodding as he took another step closer, bringing them toe-to-toe. "But do you really want to go traipsing about the world on little more than rumour and innuendo for however long this trip takes you?"

"What are you suggesting?"

She shrugged. "We're still friends Logan. If you'd let me in... You're right; you do need to find these things out on your own. But I'd like to at least be able to point you in the right direction, maybe help you find some of the answers you're looking for."

It was a tempting offer she was presenting, and it would save him a great deal of time once he was done with Yuri and at least he would know the trails he was on would eventually lead somewhere, if he asked the right questions of the right people. It would still be frustrating, but at least there would be the promise of success. So he nodded.

Her right hand dropped the pendant, a Celtic tree of life knot; he now realised and brought it back up towards his cheek. "And just so we're clear here," she said, her fingertips hovering just above his temple. "Anything I find in there, unless you want to ask me about it yourself, I will take to my grave. Your secrets and memories are yours to keep until you see fit."

"Thank you." He murmured as she lowered her hand to gently stroke his face.

The sensations he experienced were entirely different from what he had ever experienced with either Wheels or Jean. Wheels would quietly slip in and out with the precision of a surgeon, finding the information he was permitted and then withdrawing as quickly and seamlessly as possible, but still leaving a faint scar to indicate his presence. Jean, on the other hand, would simply march in and take what she wanted, not caring what she may trample on in her quest.

Kiera was different. Kiera was... warm. She slowly slipped into his mind, taking care to tread lightly. She moved slowly through his mind, gently sorting though his mind until she finally came up against the black wall that barred him from half his life. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt her tenderly run her psychic fingers down the wall, softly prodding and searching for a way in before deftly slipping in between the cracks he was never able to find. Her presence remained soothing and warm as she continued to take her time sifting through memories he hadn't experienced in years, taking as much care with each moment as one would a newborn infant.

And with a sigh, she was gone, his mind none the worse for wear as she pulled her hand back, blinking her eyes rapidly as she centered herself once more into the physical world. "Alberta." She murmured, more than a little breathless. "Late 19th century. There'll be records. You'll know it when you see them."

"Are you ok Kiera?" Logan asked, bringing his hands up to grasp her shoulders, steadying her.

"I'm fine." She said, taking a breath. "It just takes a bit out of me, being in there that long." Shaking her head, she took a moment to take a few breaths, finally wrenching herself from the images flashing through her head. "If you feel up to it, you might also be able find some help through the Blackfoot nation there. You'll probably find someone up there who knew you."

She looked as though she might have wanted to say more, like there was something she was leaving out. When she didn't speak, Logan grew a little impatient. "What is it Kiera?" he all but barked. "What aren't you telling me?"

She grimaced at his tone, not liking the anger that lay there. "You've had a very hard life Logan." She said, her voice quiet. "Harder than I think even you have imagined. Make no mistake, whatever you find out there, you're not going to like much of it."

"I rarely like much of anything." He replied, trying to bring a smile to her face.

He was partially successful, as a small smirk tugged at her lips. "Well, you know where to find me when you get back."

Nodding, Logan turned to go, shrugging his bags bag up onto his shoulder. "Take care of yourself Kiera. Don't make me have to come back here early and kick your ass for getting hurt."

"Hey Logan!" Turning back, Logan found himself just about swallowed up in a massive hug. Her scent surrounded him, sadness and longing the most prevalent notes tickling his nose. Dropping his bags, Logan brought his arms to return the hug, pulling her tight to his chest as he realized how long it might be until he saw her again. As the thought crossed his mind, he also realized just how little he liked that idea. "Do me a favour," she muttered against his shoulder. "Be careful ok? You can be a magnet for trouble sometimes."

"I'm not the only one." With one last squeeze, Logan let her go, his inner wolf once again going absolutely berserk, even as the more human side of him begged her not to let go. Shoving both sides back, Logan picked his bags back up and slung them over his shoulder. Turning, he began to walk briskly towards the garage. He needed to get out of there quickly before he did something he wasn't sure he'd regret. Turning his head, he called over his shoulder, "When I get back, I expect you to be in one piece."

"I'll do my best." She replied, watching him disappear into the garage. A few moments of silence, she heard his Harley's engine roar to life and watched him pull out onto the drive. Was it just her, or did it look like he was slowing down as he drew nearer? _'I hope it isn't just me.'_ She thought, raising her hand to wave as he rode past, down towards the gate.

The wind whistled around his head as Logan pulled out onto the streets, feeling the engine growl and shiver beneath him like a living thing. Inhaling deeply, he took in the myriad of scents Westchester currently had to offer as he flew past her buildings. He wasn't quite sure what this trip would bring, or where exactly it would take him, but at least it would take him somewhere.

Pulling to a stop at a red, Logan wasn't quite sure what it was that made him do it, but he spared a glance back towards the imposing building he was leaving behind. You could barely see it, but there it was, that little glimmer of wet, dark gold that he could pick out among a crowd of thousands. She continued to watch him go, even after he had become little more than a speck in the distance. He wasn't quite sure why, but it brought small smile to his face to see. This was the first time in all his years of teaching at the Institute that anyone had ever watched him, really watched him ride off into the sunset, cliché as it might have been.

The blare of a car horn behind him brought him back to the reality of the rain beating down his back and green light before him. Revving the engine, he slowly began to pull away, the smile still on his face, despite the weather. As his bike swiftly came up to speed, his smile grew with the feeling of the rain whipping his face, the freedom rushing through his veins was the best rush in the world he could possibly feel, and the fact that he was heading towards some answers, only made that feeling sweeter.

As she watched him disappear into the distance, Kiera sighed, glancing up towards the sky. _'Whoever's listening up there, give him strength.'_ She begged. _'Please, give him strength. He's going to need it if he does find the answers he's looking for.'_


	7. Meeting of the Minds

The sound of snow crunching under their feet echoed across the downy white paddocks as Kiera led Samael, the last of the horses she needed to bring in for the night, back to the stables. The sun had long ago sunk beyond the horizon, heralding the daily migration of students down to the dining room for dinner as she worked on. But now, her work was almost complete and she couldn't wait to head back up the stairs to her apartment above the stable for something to eat. _'Preferably something warm.'_ She thought, fully feeling the chill of the day as she walked into the warmed stable, her cheeks flushing a bright red as she led Sam down the aisle.

As she shut him up in his stall for the night, Kiera could have easily just spun out on her heel and raced up to her refuge had the whickering and stomping of her horses not reminded her of the fact that she still needed to toss hay down to them all before any of them would let her have any peace tonight. Sighing softly, she chuckled as she turned from Sam's stall. "Punctual little buggers ain't ya?" she muttered as she climbed the stairs to the hayloft, thankful that, like the rest of her stable, the hayloft was at least warm.

She moved though her last chore for the day mechanically, dropping hay down through the holes in the floor to the waiting animals below while also making a note to herself to check the plumbing tomorrow morning to make certain that none of the pipes had burst. She had done her time hauling full water buckets down to each and every stall under her care before she had finally scraped together the money to install a nice direct feed system. The temperatures weren't expected to drop too far tonight, but it never did hurt to check. All this she did while dreaming of what she would do first once she was done. "Maybe a bath first, before I eat." She murmured.

**"We missed you at dinner tonight Melinoe."**

"Shit!" Kiera shouted, starting badly enough that she dropped the flake of hay she was about to drop down. Taking a moment, she took a breath, pressing a hand to her heart, willing it to slow down after the fright while also throwing some reinforcements towards the mental walls she kept permanently in place. When she finally felt ready, Kiera picked up the flake and tossed it down before she answered. **"Sorry to disappoint, but I had work to do Jean. What do you want?"**

Kiera felt more than heard the frustrated sigh echo through her brain, but she refused to respond. She was too damn tired to deal with the redhead's crap for much longer tonight. All she wanted was a little peace and quiet so she could relax. Was that so much to ask for? **"There's no need to be rude Melinoe."** Jean replied, a little snidely, eliciting both a sigh and a roll of the eyes from Kiera. She continued to move about the hayloft, waiting for a point to be made. **"I am simply checking in on you, that's all."**

** "You saw me at breakfast."** Kiera replied. Deciding that she did not have the patience for this tonight, she just jumped straight to the point. **"Now I will ask again Jean. What do you want? I would really like to end this conversation so I can take a bath. And please don't go lecturing me on my attitude, or my tone or whatever the hell is now stuck in your craw because honestly, right now, I just don't care."**

**"Well..."** Jean seemed rather at a loss for words when confronted with Kiera's apathy. Kiera had to admit, they normally would have had at least a little bit more back and forth before getting to this point, but frankly, she just was not willing to deal with the bullshit right now. **"I... I don't suppose you've heard from Logan have you?"**

_'Oh God, not this shit again.'_ Sighing, Kiera took a moment to lightly bang her head against the rafters. This had been a damn near daily question ever since Logan had left. Well, that, or what the hell she may have told Logan before he left. Somehow, Jean had found out about Kiera's long goodbye to Logan. More than likely there was a rumour flying around about her and Logan started by some young buck who had spotted their hug. It had been a touch longer than may have been appropriate for friends, but still. Why the hell couldn't people just butt out of her life? For God's sake, even Scott had recently started getting in on it. **"No Jean, I haven't. I haven't spoken to him since he left. Why?"**

**"No reason. I was just wondering if you'd heard from him, that's all."**

Kiera snorted softly in response, not really believing her, but choosing not to argue. The conversation was more likely to end faster that way. **"Well I'm sorry to say I haven't heard from him."**

"**Would you actually tell me if you had?"**

Rolling her eyes, Kiera tossed down the last flake of hay to Sam. **"Yes Jean, I would. It's no secret that Logan and I are friends." ** Before the words were fully out of her mouth, Kiera felt a wave of disbelief roll over her. Jean really needed to learn how to hide her emotions during these kinds of conversations. **"Now, if you had asked me what had been said, that's none of your business. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm filthy, I'm cold, and I'm tired. So unless you have anything else to say to me, I'm going to go soak, eat, and then go to bed."**

Silence reigned in Kiera's head as she slowly made her way down to the side entrance to her apartment. Slipping her shoes off in her mud room Kiera tossed them beside the door followed swiftly by her coat onto its designated hook. **"No... I suppose that's all... Will we be seeing you at breakfast tomorrow?"**

"**Probably not."** She replied. **"It's one of the few days where I don't have to get up at the crack of dawn. I intend to sleep in as much as I can."** Stepping through the door into her kitchen, Kiera felt a relaxed smile spread over her features. **"Now, goodnight Jean."** With that, Kiera firmly closed the door on the conversation while at the same time, opening the door to her bathroom. Even just being in the room cased a warm relaxed feeling to slide through all her muscles. Slowly padding to the massive soaker tub at the back of the room, Kiera perched herself up on the lip and turned the faucets to draw herself a bath, thanking God and Xavier for the massive amount of space she had at her disposal to put into this apartment and make it her oasis.

Glancing around, Kiera smiled. It had taken a crap-load of money, almost a year of renovations, and every ounce of patience she had in her, but her place was finally exactly as she wanted it, with her bathroom seated in its rightful place as the crowning jewel. The tub had been built up on a raised mahogany platform with another raised step off to the right where she could set candles to feel like she was at the spa. Three of the walls were covered in a weird wall treatment one of her designer girlfriends had found for a ridiculously cheap price. Kiera had no idea what it was, but the effect was amazing. It was like she was lost in the tall grasses of the Serengeti. That, combined with the bamboo plants she had placed along the back wall and the pattern on the ceiling Kiera had combined with a series of blue LED fixtures really did make the place look like a room in a spa. With a warm wood wall and river rock floors combined with the cavernous body shower Kiera had installed along with the stereo system that she could access from either of two control panels, one by the tub or the other inside the shower; it just made this room less relaxing oasis and more ridiculously, sinfully over-indulgent treat for the senses. Yeah, it was more than a bit over the top but you know; she'd had the money, she'd had the time, and considering how hard she worked every day she felt she more than deserved this kid of indulgence.

It took a good amount of time for the tub to fill and by the time she slipped into the steaming hot water, Kiera had checked all of the doors and windows, started a load of laundry, and turned on her stereo, filling her bathroom with calm music. The heat from the water worked to quickly banish the cold she still felt clinging to her bones, eliciting a deep groan of relief from her. The day had been long and the cold had only served to make it longer. "God, is there anything better than a hot bath after a frigidly cold day?" she asked to the mostly silent air, thinking over just how much of her savings she had blown on this bathroom and how every single penny had been worth it. Sinking deeper into the water, she slowly scrubbed her arms with her loofa, languishing in the feel of the lather on her skin.

But her peace was short lived. Much as she tried not to let them, Jean's words were starting to worry her. She hadn't heard from Logan in a while, was he even ok? To that end, where the hell was he. The last time they had spoken, he had just crossed the border to Alberta. _'Should I see if I can't find him somewhere? Maybe just to check in and make sure he's ok? Or would that just be prying too much? He might think I'm trying to smother him.'_ Puffing out her cheeks, Kiera blew out a sigh of frustration. She just didn't know what to do about him anymore. She knew what she wanted to do, what she wanted him to do, but every time she got close to maybe feeling like she could open up to him about everything, he would suddenly start to back off, to panic.

'_The last thing I want to do is back him into a corner.'_ Kiera thought, gently splashing the water over her shoulders. _'Setting aside the fact that I would hate myself for doing it, I'm pretty sure he'd hate me even worse for having done it.'_ Using her toe, she turned on the hot water tap, keeping the temperature of the water up. Sighing quietly, Kiera reached up and flipped her hair up over the lip of the tub, barely registering the soft slap her sodden tips made against the porcelain sides. _'Damnit Logan, why do you have to be that torturous combination of hot, strong, stoic, and the biggest friggin' commitment-phobe a person could ever meet?'_ "Ugh!" Kiera cried, her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "What the hell am I doing?" she whined, grimacing at the pathetic notes in her voice as she did. Growling quietly, Kiera slipped her legs down under the water so she could stay warm as she performed her task.

Closing her eyes, Kiera schooled her breathing, ensuing that each breath was strong, steady and measured. Her body was already incredibly relaxed, so now it was just a matter of centering her mind and spirit, short work given the surroundings she had created for herself. It wasn't long before she felt her consciousness floating up away from her form. It took a moment to get her bearings but soon enough she was flying faster than the wind across the hills and valleys of the US and quickly approaching the highlands of Alberta. Her surroundings flew past so quickly, the only thing she could be sure of was that it was night and the night was deepening the further she went.

It had been a long time since she had tried telepathically communicating with someone from so far away, but so far everything seemed to be going according to routine. As she thought about it, Kiera decided it would probably be best if she simply looked in on the ornery feral as opposed to actually disturbing his night. A quick glance around his mind to make sure he was ok and finding the answers he needed and she would be out of there, hopefully before he woke up. This was, of course, all assuming he was asleep; something she did NOT want to disturb. She had seen him grouchy before, she could only imagine what he would be like if she woke him out of a dead sleep just to assuage her own girlish worry.

It was pitch black when she landed, and she did mean pitch, to the point where you couldn't see your hand before your eyes and were likely to trip over your own feet. Closing her eyes, Kiera took a moment to breathe figuring out just where in Logan's mind she had dropped herself. She could feel a slow, steady pulse beneath her toes as lights flickered about her in random patterns. _'Looks like he's asleep, his autonomic nervous system is running pretty steady. I must be somewhere in the Medulla.'_ She thought as she began to slowly move through his mind, now well aware of her position. (After all, one did not acquire the ability to peer into men's minds without learning at least the very basics of its physiology)

Creeping through the mind, Kiera tried to slowly find her way into the long-term memory banks to try and see if she couldn't possibly find some recent memories, just to see that he was ok. "Yup, and that's just what I'm going to keep telling myself." Kiera said as she approached her destination.

Now, she wasn't sure if it was a manifestation of her own power, or of this was just the way everyone structured themselves mentally, but for some reason the memory banks always seemed to present themselves as a waterway of some sort. Older folks had massive rushing rivers, young children were trickling streams, social butterflies were often winding creeks, all of them. Kiera had yet to find a mind that didn't present itself to her as some form of waterway. But this, this was different. She was already aware that Logan was, in the layman's sense of the term, ancient. This made for one of the largest rivers she had seen in all her born days as a telepath. But the interesting twist was the dam. The massive grey concrete dam keeping half his life back from him stretched as far as her eyes could see. Until such time as he discovered what secrets were kept behind that massive wall, it would always be there, reaching for the sky and stretching as far into the horizon.

But today the dam did not concern her. She was not here for the secrets of the past and so, upon reaching the bank of the mighty river, Kiera turned away from it, turning her palm down towards the turbulent surface of the water. As she walked, Kiera felt the various waves of emotion running off the memories and up into her palm, guiding her. It was the wave of pain that eventually stopped her in her tracks, wrenching her head around so fast it almost caused whiplash (If her astral projection could have actually gotten whiplash, she wasn't sure). Kneeling down on the river's edge, Kiera gently slipped her palms under the water, cupping them as though about to take a deep drink and catching the memory in her palms. Pulling the memory up out of the flow, Kiera watched Logan fighting a bunch of obviously drunken yahoos in some random dive bar. His claws were in, but he sure was giving them hell, much like he usually did. It made her grimace to watch him get hurt, even with his advanced healing factor, but at least he seemed to be holding his own. And when she hadn't felt any residual pain when she had landed so she had to figure he was ok now, even though she was pretty certain this fight had occurred recently. Sighing in relief, Kiera felt the worry Jean had managed to plant in her mind slowly fade a little. It wouldn't ever really go away until Logan was back at the school, but at least now she could sleep.

"Kiera?" Kiera jumped spinning around guiltily, her heartbeat ramping up to that of a hummingbird's. Cursing silently, Kiera realised that she had been so absorbed in Logan's memory; she had been stupid enough to not notice the slight changes in the rhythms of his mind as he woke up. Now he was standing behind her; shirtless, jeans rumpled and hanging low on his hips, hair sticking up every which way, probably wondering what the hell she was doing in his brain. "What are you doing here?" Yup, she figured that question was coming.

"Hey Logan." Kiera replied, rising from her spot, brushing imaginary dirt from her knees. "I got a little worried when I hadn't heard from you so I figured I'd check in on you really quick." Her nervous hands rose up to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear, though she wasn't sure why she did it.

"And you couldn't just ask me?"

Kiera winced at the underlying growl in Logan's voice. He was hurt that she would just wander into his head without permission, particularly after she had promised not to. "I would have if you had been awake when I landed. When I figured out you were asleep, I figured I'd just check on you to make sure you were ok and be gone before you woke up." Her fingers needed to move, itched to play with something. So, as was her habit, she reached up to play with a pendant she hadn't been aware her double was wearing. "I kinda figured you needed the rest." Biting her lip, Kiera finally met Logan's eyes. "You aren't mad are you?"

Her question gave him pause. Was he actually that angry at her? He had been out cold till a few minutes ago and she had never broken a promise to him before. Before he even knew it, the core of his anger had started to melt away. He clung to the residual outskirts, if only for the sake of his reputation. "Why did you need to check in on me?" he asked, a slight growl still shivering under his words.

"God, you're going to think I'm totally pathetic." Kiera said, shaking her head, causing random little strands of hair to be caught in the imaginary breeze flowing through his head. He couldn't help but give her a quick once over. Her hair was loose, not something he saw often, and flying in a breeze. She was barefoot, clothed in a wispy white robe that hit just above the knee when the breeze allowed it to fall flat. She seemed to have almost an ethereal glow, but he attributed that to the both of them being buried somewhere in his mind. Her hand let go of the pendant at her neck and she swept both palms over her hair, capturing most of the loose strands under her palms. Sighing, she launched into her explanation. "I was feeding the horses when Jean cornered me, mentally anyway, and she asked if I had spoken to you recently. I didn't think much about it at the time, but you know how I am. I got to worrying and I figured I'd just pop in and ask you how you were, just to make sure you were ok and make myself feel better."

"You're right, that is kinda pathetic." Logan teased. "You don't usually let Jean get to you like that."

Kiera shrugged, puffing out her cheeks in a sigh of frustration. "I know! And that's what pisses me off most about all this." She met his eyes again and he caught a glimpse of the war going on inside her head. "I know you can handle yourself Logan, I know you can deal with just about everything that comes at you and yet, she has the accuracy of a fucking laser to plant that tiny little seed of doubt, that needy side of me. Ugh!" Her hackles were way up on this issue. Kiera was an independent woman and to appear even the tiniest bit needy to anyone, even him, rankled her. He watched her as she began to pace the banks of his memories, a caged tigress just waiting to strike

"Will you just calm down Kiera." Logan said, chuckling slightly. It's not as though anyone else would know about this conversation. "You're still one of the baddest bitches I know, ok?"

Kiera stared at him a moment before letting out laughing. A long, smooth belly laugh that seemed to lift all the weight from her shoulders. "You jackass." She laughed, sighing softly as she calmed down. Glancing around, she smiled. "Well, I should probably let you get back to sleep huh?"

Logan just shrugged. "Yeah well, you probably have things to do back at the school."

"Not really." She replied, shaking her head. "I was done for the day before I came here."

"Yeah? So what were you doing then?" Logan asked, eyeing her. He watched her bite her lower lip (One of her cuter habits) as she muttered out her answer. Leaning forward, Logan smirked slightly. "What was that?" This was going to be good.

"I'm taking a bath." She repeated, just a little louder, her cheeks coloring with a slight blush.

Logan's face remained impassive, but her answer stopped him in his tracks. He needed it to stop him in his tracks 'cause if he went down that road any further he would never be able to get back to sleep. "As in currently?" he asked, unable to stop himself. Grimacing slightly, Logan cursed the animalistic side of him that had asked that question.

"Well I didn't say was did I?" she replied; a small, knowing smirk crossing her lips. "Anyway, I'm going to get going. You don't mind if I check in every now and then?" Kiera cast a sheepish glance over her shoulder at the river behind her. "Even if it means that I have to go dipping into the river instead of asking you directly? Something I probably should have asked you before you left."

Logan looked at her for a long while, probably making her worry that he was going to kick her out of his mind for good. "Only if I'm asleep or too busy to answer." He finally replied, feeling better at the smile that was crossing her face.

"Well, duh." Kiera replied. After a moment's pause she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, trying not to show him just how much she was missing him. It took him a little by surprise, but his arms responded automatically, wrapping tightly around her shoulders. They held the hug far longer than their first and once again for far longer than friends normally would, but being secreted away in Logan's mind, they didn't care. Finally pulling back, Kiera smiled. "I'll be seeing you soon Logan. You take care of yourself ok? Or I will kick your ass."

Logan just smirked. "Don't worry, you know I will." He replied, letting her go. He watched as she took a step back, gave a little wave, and then seemed to vanish into thin air. He started at the speed with which she disappeared, wondering exactly what might have been going through her head.

Sighing, Logan opened his eyes, taking in the crummy motel room he had got for the night. The barest minimum a person needed to survive a night alone. Growling, he got up off the bed, well aware he wasn't about to get back to sleep tonight without a _very_ cold shower first. As he padded towards the bathroom, a smirk bloomed upon his lips, just imagining that, at this very moment, Kiera was hauling herself out of the tub. At this very moment, she would be drying herself off before heading to bed; heading, hopefully, to a night of pleasant dreams. _'Damn it.'_ He thought, turning on the water and wrenching the dial as low as it could go. _'This is going to be harder than I thought.'_


	8. Animals

**OK Y'all, I am officially here to apologize for the delay in getting the latest chapter out. As I have said in my profiles, my muses are fickle things, always running in and out of my mind as they please. It took a lot to get this chapter out speaking simply creatively, not to mention the other factors in my life right now such as school and homework. In addition I am also not to certain how I feel about this chapter. I attempted to show that Logan has a more animalistic side that needs to be acknowledged, a side that does not necessarily act in the a civilized manner. He is, after all, a feral.**

**If a few of you could do me a favor and let me know what you think or where you think I could stand to improve, I would be very appreciative. It's hard to focus on one story when one has upwards of five flitting in and out of one's brain and I want to make sure that this chapter doesn't just work in my head, but also on the page before you, my readers.**

**Thank you in advance,**

**CalgaryCowgirl**

* * *

Night had fallen hours ago and yet Logan remained rooted at the bar, trying to drink himself stupid. It had been a bad day; that was the only way to put it. And in his spectrum of bad days, this racked up as one of the worst. Kiera hadn't been kidding when she'd said he wasn't going to like it, but he hadn't ever thought it would have been as bad as this. Then again, Logan had known he was a killer, that much was evident from the variety of skills he possessed, he just hadn't realized how early it had started.

Which had lead to this, sitting in some dive bar, in the middle of nowhere, drinking enough alcohol to take down a draft horse which was doing nothing but causing a slight tingle in his fingers. There would be no headache tomorrow, no dry mouth, not a single lick or shred of a hangover for him; though he wasn't sure he wanted such good fortune today. He wanted to hurt, wanted to feel the pounding in his head, the aching in his bones even though he knew that wasn't about to happen.

Glancing about Logan took in the dive he had chosen to roost for the night. It was a shithole; no if, ands, or buts about it. It was the stereotypical small town dive where people went to drink themselves numb. This was no high end lounge with professional decoration. The walls were bare wood, covered in road signs, animal skulls and graffiti. But it served decent booze and right now, that was all he was looking for.

"You might want to slow down dude." Came a voice before him. "You keep slamming whiskey back like that; I'm going to have to drag your ass out of here. And frankly, I don't think I'm that strong." Logan lifted his eyes to meet those of the young bartender wiping down the small stretch of bar in of him. She had been there for the last five minutes, watching him. Giving her a very quick once over, Logan decided he wasn't interested, at least not in the sense that she was obviously thinking. She was cute; there was no denying that, her black hair swept up into a high ponytail that beautifully accentuated her high cheekbones and creamy chocolate skin. Honey coloured eyes blazed out of her face, hinting at secrets most men would kill to learn.

But he was not most men, and while he would normally have had no compunction taking this girl to bed for a night of fun but right now... "I'm fine." He said, leaning back in his stool, lightly fingering the small shot glass before him.

"You don't look it." She replied, her hands continually moving the cloth over the bar. "You look like someone just yanked the rug out from under your feet and you don't quite know how to get back up."

He shrugged. "Kinda how I feel actually." He replied, downing his umpteenth shot of the night. She sighed before reaching behind the bar for the whiskey. She filled the glass quickly and, after a moment's study removed the topper from the bottle, setting it up beside him on the bar. As she reached behind her for a replacement bottle, Logan reached for his wallet, pulling out the bills to pay his tab. "Thanks..."

"Adisa." She finished, taking the money from him before offering him a smile and her hand. "And you are?"

"Logan." He answered, taking her hand. Her grip was soft; her hands only lightly callused, feeling like silk against his own rough palm. "Nice to meet you."

"And you." Adisa replied, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the bar. "So what brings you to our little stretch of hick-ville Logan? You aren't one of my regulars. Not that I'm complaining, you drink way more than any of them ever have. They would have dropped long ago." She paused a moment, staring at him, studying him. "So... what are you doing here Logan? What exactly have you come here to try and forget?"

"Something I wasn't even aware I needed to forget." He muttered, downing his whiskey, thinking over exactly what it was he had discovered that day. It had been bloody, it had been brutal, and before today; it had been blacked out of his memory. At the moment, he was at odds over it, unsure as to whether he was glad he knew or whether he wanted to still be in the dark about it. It was a part of his past, a past he was desperate to rediscover; but if it was all going to be this vile, this bloody he wondered if he might just want to turn tail and forget he ever wanted to know about any of this. "Something I'm not so sure I want to know anymore."

"Ahhhhh, those suck don't they?" Adisa replied. "But I guess there's not that much you can do about it huh? It's in the past, nothing you can do about it now." When Logan didn't reply, she continued. "So what is this thing you don't want to know?"

"No offence meant Adisa," Logan said, catching her eyes. "But it's not really something I want to talk about right now."

For an instant it looked as though he may have hurt the young bartender's feelings, but he had to hand it to her, she hid such things well. "Sorry," she said, smiling sheepishly. "I guess I was going a bit too far there. I guess I just wanted to see if it was anything I could help with."

"There's only one person who can help me with this, but she'll be asleep by now."

Adisa cocked her head, curious. "Yeah? And just what's she got that I don't?" she retorted, mock annoyance filling her tone as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Logan couldn't help the tiny ghost of a smile that tugged at his own lips. "Similar histories." He replied, offering no further details.

Adisa smirked, checking her watch before reaching behind the bar to grab another glass. "I just got off shift five minutes ago, mind if I join you?" Logan shook his head as Adisa filled her own glass with some of the glittering amber liquid from the bottle between them. "To similar histories and the secrets they share." She said, raising her glass.

The smile tugged harder now as he clinked glasses with her, downing his shot in a single fiery gulp. "Don't you have to get home?" He asked, not wanting her to feel she needed to stay on his account.

She shook her head as she refilled her glass. "I live like two blocks from here, it's no big deal. Besides, I usually stay over to help lock-up." She gulped down her second shot at the same time as she pulled her hair loose from its elastic, running her fingers through the strands with a heavy sigh of relief. "Goddamn, that feels so much better. That elastic was giving me a mountain of a headache."

"Looked like it." Logan smirked as his nose picked up the lust permeating Adisa's scent. He knew her type. She was persistent, but if he kept from showing any kind of interest she would back off soon. _'Not that I mind at all.'_ He thought, smirking gently, his spirits already beginning to rise. _'She certainly is an attractive girl. Reminds me a bit of Storm.'_

"So, what's this chick like that you share so much history with?" Logan bit back a laugh.

"I don't SHARE a lot of history with her, we just have similar histories." He corrected. "And she's a nice lady. Farm girl, tough as nails, works the longest hours I've ever seen from anyone other than me and still somehow finds time to help out her friends, even if it means staying up until the wee hours of the morning." Shrugging lightly, Logan struggled to find the right words to describe Kiera to this woman. "She's a dangerous woman to cross, a good one to talk to, and a great one to have as a friend." He said, hating how trite and cliché he had sounded, but there didn't really seem to be any other way to say what he meant.

"So why aren't you talking to her?" Adisa asked; a knowing smile on her face. Logan's eyes narrowed, wondering just what this woman thought she knew about him. "If this woman is so good to talk to, why are you sitting here drinking yourself into a coma instead of calling her up?"

"Are you aware what time it is?" he asked, incredulous. "She'll be dead asleep by now."

"It's a Friday night, I doubt she'll care that much."

"She keeps farmer's hours, trust me, she'll care."

Adisa shrugged, picking up her glass and the now empty bottle of whiskey. "All I know is, you're not exactly helping yourself sitting here brooding and drinking Logan. Lord knows I can't help you since you won't tell me what's bothering you. You need to talk about this to someone who knows what the deal is and she seems to be your best bet, whether you like it or not. Besides, if she's really that good a friend to you, she won't mind too much that you woke her. She'll probably still give you shit about it in the future, but she won't really care."

Logan winced, "Why do I always get the insightful bartenders?" he joked. "Just once, I'd like to get one that doesn't actually care about anything except whether my glass is empty or not."

Leaning over the bar, Adisa patted Logan's hand. "Just lucky I guess." With that, she left him alone with his chaotic train of thoughts. It didn't help that every now and then, Wolverine decided to get in on the discussion by throwing in the odd vision of Kiera's robe clad form from their talk in his memory or the beast's imaginings of what she had looked like in the bath. Again, he was a man after all. Sighing, Logan tossed some more bills down on the bar and started to make his way outside to his bike. He was halfway to the door when a heavy hand on his arm stopped him.

Rolling his eyes, Logan groaned in his head. _'I REALLY do not need this tonight.'_ He thought, turning to face the 260lb biker behind him. The guy was massive, with the kind of muscles that left no doubt this man's two hobbies required either of two things; dumbbells or hypodermic needles, one of the two. "You wanna let go of my arm pal? I got places to be." Logan sneered, hoping the man wasn't too drunk to take a hint.

"I-I know you" The guy stuttered, sniggering away like a hyena. "I knew it was you. Hey!" He shouted, causing Logan to wince. "I TOLD you losers it was h-him, but you didn't b-b-believe me. But it's him."

"Sorry bub." Logan said, patting the man's hand in an attempt to peaceably get him to remove it. He highly doubted that Adisa would appreciate having to clean up a bunch of blood off the floor. "Don't think we've ever met. Pretty sure I'd remember you."

"Nah, we never met." The guy shook his head while his friends looked on, giggling like psychotic school girls. It was creeping him out just a little bit. "You used to fight in the cage at this b-bar up north for cash. Man, I-I-I watched you some nights, all night long. Y-you were epic."

Letting a slight grin cross his lips, Logan nodded his head. "Well thanks for that bub." He muttered, just wanting this creepy fuck to let go of his arm. "But I gotta go." He started to move, but the arm stopped him again.

"Y-you still do that man? Feel like goin' up agin' me?"

"I don't fight for money anymore bub, and taking you on wouldn't be fair." Logan replied, finally taking it upon himself to remove the offending hand himself, being none too gentle about it though the man still appeared to be too drunk to care. _'Come on man, I really don't need this tonight.'_ He thought, praying to whatever god might be listening that this guy would just let this hero worship go.

But the guy just put his dukes up. "Come on man. Y-you too chicken? Cause I-I bet I could beat y-yer ass but good." He shot a hand forward, faking a punch that Logan didn't even bother trying to duck. The fist got nowhere near his head anyway.

With his eyes shooting skyward in a silent, 'Why me?' Logan let a breathy growl rip past his lips. "I'm sorry, I tried Adisa." He called to the bartender, actually having to duck the next fist. The guy was obvious when it came to what moved he was making but the sheer bulk and muscle he had on his side might end up becoming an issue.

"Damn it Tony, Jacob just finished getting this place fixed up from the last time you decided to get stupid!" Logan didn't bother turning to face the bartender, deciding he would try and keep this quick, if only to try and minimise the damage to the bar, maybe even try and steer this outside. But that idea was soon shot right to hell.

He had to admit, the guy had probably had some training. Logan was thinking kickboxing maybe and if he hadn't been wasted out of his gourd, this Tony might have made a good sparring partner. But for now, things just needed to be dealt with, preferably without claws. This wasn't the kind of place to be advertising the fact that he was a mutant. It might even help his mood a little bit; help him to take some of his hard feelings out on the guy's face. _'Yeah,'_ he thought, grinning coldly. _'That might be just what the doc called for.'_

And so he decided to take his time, ducking and weaving in a timeless pattern that was (to him) as fresh as if he had used it only the day before. He made it a point to only use a fraction of his considerable strength, not ready to lay this guy out cold just yet. Logan took pleasure in taunting his foe, though if you had asked him later, he would have been unable to recall anything he had said, just that he had taken an almost sickening level of enjoyment out of saying it. He wasn't bloodthirsty by any means, but that didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy a good scrap every now and then.

Eventually Wolverine had enough. This play acting wasn't doing much to take the edge off his aggression and he wanted to get out of here. So he began mixing it up with the drunken bastard, throwing a few punches and taking great delight in the sickening crack of bones and the fleshy 'thuds' that accompanied his hits. The scent of blood was in the air and it stirred the blood in his veins. His hits became heavier, more damaging and Logan knew he was going to have to end this soon if he didn't want this poor bastard to wind up dead. He was having a hard enough time keeping Wolverine back as it was, his animal fighting and baying for blood as it was already. He hadn't fed its animalistic side in so long; even this little bit was whetting its appetite. If Logan didn't end this soon, Tony here was a dead man.

With a ferocious roar h wasn't even aware he made, Logan slammed Tony's head into a table, the cheap wood cracking a little beneath the force of the blow. But Tony was nothing if not hard headed and it appeared that the intimate introduction to the tabletop had done little more than phase him a bit. The fool kept trying to rip Logan's hands away from himself so he could try and get back into the fray, as though this were a fair fight. Logan would just have to make him realize how stupid he was. Amazingly, or perhaps not considering his strength, all it took was one wicked punch across the face and Tony dropped like a stone at Logan's feet. _'Well, that was rather anticlimactic.'_ He thought.

"Anybody else want to try my patience tonight?" he snarled, Wolverine still keening for blood. Logan almost hoped that one of the other patrons would be foolish enough to challenge him. But no one spoke up, no one even raised their eyes to meet his; perhaps for fear that he would take it as a challenge. It would appear that no one else in this bar was inebriated enough to have a death wish tonight. And so, with a soft snarl, Logan marched out of the bar and began the cold walk back to his motel. _'Kiera!'_ His thoughts shouted across the plains, heedless of the hour. _'KIERA!'_

**"What?" **Her voice echoed through his head, snarling almost as much as his was at having been woken.

_'Why didn't you warn me'_ Logan snarled, desperate for someone to take his anger out on, for someone who could survive it. With Kiera several thousands of kilometer's away, he knew she could take it.

**"What the hell are you talking about?"** she snapped, not understanding his mood at all. Logan felt her spreading her mental fingers over his mind, trying to make sense of his obviously jumbled thoughts.

_'Why the hell didn't you tell me that I killed my own FATHER!'_ he screamed at her, his pain and rage bubbling to the forefront of his mind.

**"For the love of god, it is way too fucking early for this."** He felt her mutter; he was also fairly certain she felt the faint traces of alcohol swimming in his blood. Thankfully though, she made no comment beyond her first. **"I did, not well admittedly, but I did tell you that you wouldn't like it Logan. You've had a hard life, harder than anyone I've ever known and that includes everyone here at the mansion."** Her tone was curt, but she tried to remain submissive in the face of his towering anger. Provoking him now would accomplish nothing.

_'You still could have given me a head's up or something.'_ Logan snapped, though that little voice of civilization in the back of his being chastised him for it. It wasn't Kiera's fault he'd had a cringe-worthy childhood. But he was mad and she was an easy target.

He felt a sigh rattle through his being and imagined she had more than her fair share of expletives floating around in that brain of hers. And if she had been anyone else in the manor, she might have lit into him with them, but she reigned in her tongue. He could almost feel her thoughts. To curse, scream and wail at the moment would get them nowhere. It would not ease his bloodlust, in fact, it might actually exacerbate it. And with no one around to take his frustrations out on, the first person he ran across might end up in a very dangerous position.

When she finally did speak, it was hardly pleasant. **"Fucking Christ, who the hell pissed in your cornflakes tonight?"** she muttered darkly, and Logan grinned, certain in the knowledge that she would have well and truly tried to kick his ass if he had been home. **"Head into the mountains Logan, Highway 16 until you get to Red Pass. There should be a tribe of the Blackfoot Nation there and if you're NICE,"** there was a great deal of stress on the word nice he noticed. Was she trying to hint at something? **"They might let you join them on one of their hunts so you can get this bloodlust out of your system. And who knows, if you're lucky you might find someone there who knew you."**

Grunting quietly, Logan shoved open the door to his motel room, intent on getting a little sleep before hitting the road at dawn.

**"Oh and Logan,"** Kiera added, her tone dangerously sweet. **"If you ever get it into your head to wake me up at three in the morning and then proceed to get pissy with me again, I swear to god I will incapacitate you for however long it takes me to hunt you down and give you an ass kicking the likes of which you have never, nor will ever see again."** Her anger rolled over him in waves, which didn't really help Wolverine to calm down at all. **"Am I making myself clear?"** she asked, all but snarling at him.

"Crystal." He snarled back, storming to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help.

**"And I will be expecting an apology when you get back."** She snapped, severing the link between them before he could respond. The violent method she had used to end the conversation left him staggering in shock for a brief instant, but once he came back into himself, his frustration and anger returned in spades. Who the hell did she think she was, wrenching away from him like that? She had to know what kind of a shock to the system that was, but did she even care? Before he knew it, a loud snarl ripped from his throat. He would take her advice, but only because he couldn't bring himself to return to the mansion now. If he went back now, without giving himself time to settle his thoughts and aggression, Kiera would be a dead woman. He knew this for a fact because Logan would kill her without the slightest hesitation.

He wouldn't even blink.


	9. Hunter

**I know, I know. It's been for-bloody-ever since I posted and I am sincerely sorry for that. I place all the blame for this squarely on the shoulders of the writers block I have been wrestling with and am still wrestling with. For those of you who actually care, I'm not at all happy with the way this part of the story has wound itself, but I haven't a single clue how to go about fixing it. The beginning is fine, it's the parts pertaining to Kayla Silverfox that are irritating me. So if any of you have any ideas how I can make those portions make sense, I would really appreciate it if you dropped me a line, cause my muse is realy starting to annoy me.**

**Sincerely,**

**CC**

* * *

A chill wind caressed his hair, bringing with it a myriad of scents to be deciphered. Logan stilled his movements, breathing deep, reveling in the silent mark left behind by his prey and the stillness of the snowy forest surrounding him. He could feel Wolverine quivering with anticipation, for it had been many years since Logan had allowed himself to surrender to his baser instincts, to the animal within him. Most days, Logan took the road Jean and the professor had all but insisted he take, that being where he separated himself from his animal and kept a firm leash on it at all times. _'How long has it been?'_ he wondered, even as he moved through the underbrush, his feet silent and sure. _'Since I just let go and enjoyed the hunt, the kill?'_ As Logan continued walking, he found he couldn't remember.

Even as he considered it, Logan shuddered. People weren't supposed to enjoy death, weren't supposed to revel in the barbaric seduction of a good kill. But then, he supposed, was he truly a person? The Wolverine made up half of his consciousness, that creature of base desires and instincts. The animal that bathed in the blood of a fresh kill, that saw things in black and white and made Logan the exceptional fighter he was. He remembered it, remembered the faint traces he would feel when he finished with a particularly violent Danger Room simulation or from when he would fight in the cages back in the day. He remembered feeling good, so good, and then the regret. Chuck and Jean kept telling him to control himself, to master his inner beast, but was that even possible? Was it possible to control a creature that was so ingrained within him?

Before he could continue down this winding path of higher thought, Wolverine pulled him up short and threw Logan down into a crouch, wrenching the man from his slightly depressing philosophical thoughts. Before his eyes lay an idyllic clearing surrounded by ancient evergreens and crisp white snow. The sunlight lanced down through the branches of the trees, like spears flung on an ancient battlefield, striking the snow below, causing the crystals to glitter like so many diamonds. He watched these spears and their accompanying shadows as they played across the tawny hides of the herd before him. Elk, a rather large herd of Rocky Mountain elk grazed before him. Logan was glad for a moment, for Wolverine, for he was certain that if he had been without the dark animal within him Logan would have never found these creatures, or at least that he would have scared them off long ago with his distracted wanderings. Logan took another moment to breathe; to take in the scents that swirled within his nose before he slowly (and not without just a hint of reluctance) turned the control over to Wolverine.

It was an old feeling, purposefully releasing control. He had done it by accident before in his life, having gotten so angry he had simply lost it, lost all control and at last joined forces with the animal. And then there were the times where he had allowed Wolverine out farther than the norm, when circumstances called for violence. But this was relatively new, this feeling of just sitting back in his own body and allowing his darker side to take over. He wouldn't say that his senses sharpened, per say. After all, how much sharper could they possibly get? More, they came further into focus and elicited a different response. Where once scent was used in casual observance or as a defence mechanism, now it served him as a tool. The herd of elk just continue to graze on what little forage could be found before him, Wolverine having instinctively arrived downwind of them. For now he watched, his senses picking them apart, searching for the perfect target. None of the pregnant ones, he didn't feel like skinning two bodies tonight, not to mention that even at his darkest and most deranged moments, Logan despised the idea of harming the young. They were meant to continue on, meant to ensure that the herd remained for future hunts.

And so he waited and watched. It didn't take him long to focus in on one cow in particular. She was old, well past her prime and obviously no longer mating. While Wolverine might have perhaps preferred the challenge of taking on the alpha cow, but understood that come future mating seasons, she would be needed to fill out the ranks with her young. The herd couldn't do without her, but this one... she wouldn't be missed.

Logan felt a cold smile cross his face, even as the voice of civilization in his head shivered at his obvious delight. Shoving aside the higher thinking expectations, Wolverine leapt forward with a snarl, scattering the herd and effectively steering his cow away from her allies. Her death was swift as Wolverine stretched his legs to their limit, nipping and slashing at her heels to try and sever that vulnerable tendon that enabled her to run from him. The animal growled in anger as he felt his cow's heels connect with his head, momentarily causing stars to pass before his eyes. He had to give her one thing; she didn't get to be this old without learning just a few tricks to avoid predators. In the back of his mind, Logan quietly wondered if perhaps she had been an alpha in her day.

But all things must come to an end, and today was her day. With a final, snarling lunge, Wolverine felt his claws slide out of his hands to slash at the back of her legs, managing to damn near slice through her left leg. Without waiting for her to score another hit, Wolverine slammed into her chest and ripped her throat out, ensuring that her death was swift if not just a little bloody.

Logan felt himself panting from his perch atop the cow's still form. He watched the blood seep in slow rivulets into the snowy ground, the red standing out starkly from the pristine white covering the ground, and felt his darker half shudder with pleasure. Retracting his claws, Logan stared down at his hands, now coated in the blood and gore of his prey. Before he could stop himself, Logan felt his tongue rake up the back of his hand, lapping up the swiftly cooling blood from his skin. Even as he cringed in disgust at the animal's savage nature, Logan couldn't deny the barbaric pleasure he took in such an act and wondered briefly if he would ever really be able to fit in with those more urbane beings than himself.

Breathing a sigh, Logan shook his head, taking control back from Wolverine. Strangely enough, the beast seemed happy to allow the man to take control, his desire to hunt sated. Using only a fraction of his considerable strength, Logan hoisted the carcass up over his shoulder and began making his way back towards the little village that had agreed to shelter him for the time being. Apparently he and his girlfriend at the time, a woman named Kayla Silverfox, had lived near here at the time and had often found themselves among the Blackfoot tribe here. It had taken two days to sift through all the information the tribal members had for him, the memories they dredged up were so intense he required several breaks to just run through the woods and not think about it or to sit somewhere silent to just process it. The feelings he'd had for Kayla and her ultimate betrayal (Something Kiera had grudgingly informed him of after a talk/session with Scott a few days after he'd arrived in the village)... feeling that again had just about killed him. The only equivalent he could possibly think of was if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart in a vice before wrenching it from his ribs and stomping it into the dust.

But not all the memories were bad. There had been moments of real love and true happiness which was, perhaps, what was causing him the most pain now. The time they had shared and the love he had felt for this woman had been real, that much he could recall with perfect certainty, and he was fairly sure she had loved him. But why had she betrayed him to his enemies, to Striker? "What did they have on you?" he muttered to the wind. "What did he offer you?"

Sighing, Logan watched the village come back into view. No one in the village could shed any light on that particular issue. It would have appeared that, in that particular instance, Kayla had played things very close to the vest. It was an issue that nagged at him. Maybe when he got back to the mansion he could ask Kiera...

'_NO!'_ he thought, violently shaking himself from his thoughts. Even if he was at all willing to apologize, which he was still having a great deal of trouble admitting that he might be considering, Kiera wasn't a miracle worker. Even if he could remember what had happened to Kayla in the end, he doubted she would be willing to submit to Kiera sifting through her head. Besides, he highly doubted that Kiera was willing to forgive him at that particular moment. He would admit, he had not exactly been the nicest guy the last time the two of them talked and Kiera was a woman who could hold a grudge until about 50 years after the apocalypse if she wanted and he had no idea how to approach that.

"I am glad to see your hunt was successful Logan."

"Thank you Wayra." Logan replied, turning to face the leathery face of his host, Wayra Grayclaw. The man had been generous enough to open up his home to Logan when he had come knocking a week ago. In fact, now that Logan considered it, Wayra had been invaluable in helping his lodger find information and introducing him to those people who would help him as best they could. It made him feel more than a little anxious. All the elders of the tribe seemed to recognize him or remember him but he could no more place their faces than he could pull a unicorn from his ass.

"Would you like help skinning that?" Wayra asked, quickly falling into step alongside the feral.

"Don't you have a tribal meeting soon?"

"Not for a few hours yet." The elder (Though in appearance only) replied. "And one of the benefits of being as old as I am is that I can generally come and go as I please."

"Yeah, but you also have to deal with the younger generation not listening to you." Logan replied, well aware of the issues faced by the elder generations. In the rush for independence and progress, many younger people would be quick to dismiss the wisdom of the past as irrelevant and outdated without taking the time to actually listen to the advice, which eventually caused history to repeat itself again and again and again.

Wayra just laughed. "That is true." He replied, his barking laugh echoing across his backyard. "I keep forgetting that you are actually part of my ancestor's generation. You know first-hand what it's like to deal with those young bucks."

Setting the cow down to begin skinning her, Logan considered what Wayra had just said. The elder had been making such comments over the last week and Logan still had yet to ask him to elaborate. He wasn't certain what kept him from asking, but until now he had simply let himself wonder. Sighing, Logan grabbed some knives and passed one to Wayra before getting to work. "You know," Logan said as he started in on the cow. "You've been saying things like that a lot lately. Did we know each other well when I was here last?"

Wayra smiled quietly. "I was wondering when you would get around to asking me that." He said, his tone laughing slightly.

Glancing up, Logan paused a moment. "So we did know each other."

"Not well, but we knew of each other and we did have a few conversations." Wayra looked as though he were gathering his thoughts, considering all the moments of his youth, all those years ago. "I was just a young man then, perhaps no more than fifteen years old when you first arrived. My father was a member of tribal council back then and I remember he was more than a little pleased at how respectful you were of our traditions." The elder met Logan's gaze without pausing in his work. "Though I also recall more than a few arguments the two of you would have over certain issues. You were both about as rigid as an old growth oak."

"Why would we be arguing? I'm not native, why would I be involved in tribal affairs." Logan asked, swiftly returning to his skinning.

"You worked for a local logging company." Wayra replied. "And they decided, wisely in my opinion, that because you already had dealings with the tribe that you should be the one to negotiate any issues that might occur between the tribe and the company." A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Though that, perhaps, was not the wisest of choices given your lack of diplomatic skills. You and my father were both the type of men who could dig your heels on a problem when either of you felt as though yours was the only option. There was more than a few times that my mother and Miss Silverfox had to be called in to mediate the issue at hand." The man chuckled quietly. "Though the two of you did always come to an agreement in the end, such matters were always entertaining."

"Glad to see we could amuse you." Logan replied dryly.

"What do you want, I was fifteen. It was funny as hell to watch two grown men bickering like a pair of ten year olds." Wayra replied, making no attempt to keep the laughter from his tone.

Logan just rolled his eyes but it was nice to hear Wayra speak of him in such ways. After the night he had been through before he had come here, it was nice to know that his life hadn't been complete shit. Such knowledge always seemed to surprise him, knowing that he hadn't been fighting something or living through hell every moment of his life. "Why did I leave?" he asked, curious as to why he would leave such a happy place.

Wayra's smile faded fast and Logan's heart clenched in dread. "Your heart was broken." He answered, unwilling to meet Logan's questioning gaze. "Miss Silverfox... Kayla was killed, violently so, and it seemed as though someone had wrenched your heart out of your chest and shredded it." Logan watched Wayra work, his mind running over everything he had been informed of and remembered on his own. Kiera hadn't told him that Kayla had faked her death, he wasn't sure why. That had come to him in a nightmare one night a few days ago. But the ghost of the pain, that hollow feeling, was something he was certain would never really go away. "After that, there was no chance you could find peace here. But you seemed to know where you needed to be and you left a few days after it happened."

"Did I say where I was going?"

Wayra shook his head. "Not that I'm aware. You might have said something to my father; you did speak privately with him before you left. But beyond that, you played things pretty close to the vest."

Logan sighed. Of course he did, it was a habit that appeared to be consistent through the whole of his life and it was one he was not particularly pleased with now. It only ever made it that much more difficult to find the answers he craved. Now it appeared the only way he could get those answers was through Xavier, Jean, or Kiera. Of the three, the only one willing to talk was Kiera and even then she only gave him the barest amount so that he could find the rest out himself. And while he may have appreciated that on any other day, not he was just getting tired and frustrated. He had lived for so many years and done so many things in that time, it was starting to seem like such an impossible task, even in the face of his dogged determination.

"You look pensive Logan, something on your mind?"

"Just... frustrated I guess." Logan said, setting the skin aside to tan later before starting work on butchering the carcass before him. "Not being able to remember parts of my own life, to know what's going on in my own head. It gets annoying."

"But you've been getting help with that, yes?" Wayra asked, looking up at Logan. "I mean, you couldn't remember anyone in the village when you got here which makes me fairly certain you couldn't remember the village itself. So you must have had help finding us."

Logan shrugged. "A friend... at the school I work at was able to track my movements here. She told me about it, thinking I might be able to find some answers here." It seemed a rather paltry way to describe the complexity of his relationship with Kiera, but anything else would have taken far too long to explain and ended up being far too complicated, particularly since Logan himself couldn't understand it at times.

"Sounds like a good friend." Wayra said, getting back to work. Logan glanced up at him wondering, briefly, what Wayra was talking about. Yeah, Kiera was a good friend, but something in Wayra's tone seemed to imply something.

"Yeah... she is." Logan muttered, unwilling to discuss the matter with Wayra, though he wasn't sure why since he'd been able to talk about everything else with the man. But then again, he never had been able to discuss women and his issues pertaining to them with anybody. For some obscure reason, as badly as he might muck it up, Logan always preferred to handle his women issues on his own.

But Wayra was nothing, if not crafty. "Is she now? You don't sound too sure of that. There any particular reason why?" The silence was long and tense and Logan could just feel Wayra's wheels turning. "Well, no matter. I'm just glad you're working to figure out who you were." Wayra's smile was bright with memory. "You were a good man Logan, and from what I can tell, you still are."

"Maybe."

There was another pause, perhaps as Wayra tried to see if Logan would elaborate. When it became obvious that wasn't about to happen, he just smiled that enigmatic smile of his and proceeded to check his watch. "Well, I suppose I ought to go and get cleaned up. I don' think they'll appreciate me showing up to a meeting in bloodstained clothes. The youngsters might just get it into their heads that I helped you kill someone."

That brought a smirk to Logan's face. "Well you would know all the best places to hide a body." The dull ache brought on by such black humour came almost as an afterthought. Kayla had died here, in these woods. It had killed him, back then. Her death had absolutely destroyed him and despite what she had done to him, Logan still cared for Kayla in some way. Sighing, he bowed his head, not even acknowledging when Wayra gave his hunched shoulder a comforting squeeze before he walked off to get ready for his meeting, something for which Logan was infinitely grateful. Anything more would have made him exceedingly uncomfortable and would have ended in Logan saying something he would have regretted.

Growling softly, Logan started butchering the cow again, trying to make the work last as long as he could so he wouldn't have to think, to remember. Even now the argument he'd had with Kiera still managed to make him hot under the collar. He was willing to admit that he had been a bit of an ass, but that didn't mean that Kiera had been in the right, damn it! And as much as he may need her help, Logan couldn't be sure their partnership would work.

As he finished slicing up the carcass, Logan sighed, absently wiping his bloody hands off on his jeans. What in the hell was he going to do?


End file.
